


Release Me

by Eternalmetalhead



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Aura, Alternate Universe - No Grimm, Alternate Universe - No Hunters, Alternate Universe - Tattoo parlour, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Multi, No Smut, Nonbinary Blake Belladonna, Nonbinary Scarlet David, Trans Female Nora, all the lgbt+ headcanons, demisexual/demiromantic Ren, depending on how stuff goes down it may go up to an M rating but not because of smut, guess who totally forgot to update tags, lots of that i'm afraid, more characters and ships will be introduced, past emotional abuse, there's a lot of them ok, will update the tags as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternalmetalhead/pseuds/Eternalmetalhead
Summary: This is the story of three people who found each other.The former heiress, lost after winning her freedom.The Faunus artist, learning to stand up for what they believe in.The brawler who just wants to care for those she loves.Watch as they struggle on through life, finding love and tribulation along the way. Tattoo Parlour AU, details in first chapter.





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, one and all, to a fic that I’ve been planning basically since I started watching RWBY.  
> Few things to set out before we get into it.  
> First, this is a no Grimm, no aura AU, but it’s still set in Remnant. Dust still exists and has its similar pseudo-magic properties to canon, it just can’t be used in any ways that would involve the use of aura. So, we still have slightly futuristic technology. More details will abound late in the story.  
> Second, for the purposes of character development and alterations, the characters are all two to three years older than in canon. This is NOT, I repeat, NOT for the purpose of writing non-underage smut. There won’t be any smut in this story. It is because a) a 20-year-old tattoo artist who is absolutely amazing at their job strikes me as slightly more believable than a 17-year-old one (no offence intended to any 17-year-old tattoo art prodigies who may be reading this); and b) it partly involves me projecting how I feel the characters would have developed over the extra years. Weiss in particular has already had a lot of canon character development and I want to explore where I think that could lead her.  
> Third, this story will have fluff, but it will also deal with some pretty heavy topics. Homophobia, transphobia and both physical and emotional abuse will be mentioned and discussed and in some cases shown, and that’s just what I have already written. Content warnings will be provided on a chapter-by-chapter basis, and if you have to skip a chapter based on them let me know and I can provide summaries of the chapter’s contents minus the stuff you aren’t okay with. If there’s any kind of content you need a CW for that I haven’t specified before, let me know in comments/reviews/PMs/asks on my tumblr (URL is my username dot tumblr dot com) and I’ll sort it.  
> Fourth, this story has quite a few trans and nonbinary headcanons, including agender Blake, genderfluid Scarlet (both they/them) and trans girl Nora (she/her). If that’s not your thing then fair enough, I guess, just don’t read it.  
> I have a backlog of six chapters at present, so readers can enjoy a regular updating schedule whilst giving me plenty of time to write more. That being said, I am in my third and final year at university, so when the backlog is empty, don’t be surprised if updates come slower.  
> Right, I think that’s all that jazz out of the way. I hope you enjoy!

Classic rock wheezed out of dying speakers in a dive no respectable individual would ever be caught dead in.

Guess that made the former heiress to the largest mining company on Remnant unrespectable, then.

After the argument she had thrown some clothes in a small backpack and fled, once she made it clear that no billion-Lien company was worth supressing her identity for.

_“I am not a thing! I am not a corporate asset, born to marry some conniving backstabber and produce an heir! I am myself before anything else, and no-one can take that away from me!”_

While Father respected her courage in standing up to him, the disobedience was simply unacceptable to him.

_“If you will not do your duty to this family then you no longer deserve a place within it!”_

A bluff, some might assume.

One the heiress was all too happy to call.

_“I understand perfectly, Mr Schnee.”_

The last words he ever heard from her were impersonal, and cold as his name, the ancestral icy fury she inherited being put to effective use.

Though most of the Schnee Dust Company’s operations took place in the bitter northern kingdom of Atlas, the family had been staying at their residence in the more temperate kingdom of Vale for the annual Vytal Festival, and so it was to downtown Vale that Weiss Schnee, former heiress, took a cab.

Wandering from street to unfamiliar street she searched studiously for a place to stay. But to no avail – with the Festival in full swing, hotels left right and centre were all fully booked as tourists flooded into this year’s host kingdom.

Lacking anything else to do she had wandered the foreign streets until she stumbled across a small bar. Even from the outside it was obviously not a place a classy lady would be caught dead in.

The perfect hiding place.

And maybe she could learn about some out-of-the-way motel while she was there. Bartenders _were_ legendary fountains of information, after all.

Well, they were in the movies, anyway.

_Only_ in the movies.

When she had asked the barkeep, a short, bearded, scruffy-looking man, for directions to the nearest motel, all she got was a glare and a cutting response of, “They don’t pay me to run tours. They pay me to serve drinks.”

She had cursed internally, then relented and ordered a whisky double. _Maybe it’ll encourage him to open up_ , she reasoned.

It wasn’t like she had sorrows to drown, or anything like that.

And that was how the now-former heiress to the largest Dust mining corporation on Remnant found herself perched on a barstool in a dive no respectable person would be caught dead in, listening to classic rock being butchered by aged speakers.

Swirling the swill in her glass, she took a sip, barely managing not to gag at the burn. Gazing over the bar, she examined the bottles behind it, wondering how much she’d have to get through to get herself hospitalised.

Hey, at least she’d have a bed for the night.

_Dust, am I really that desperate?_

_Well, it’s that or a street corner._

_Then again, that barkeep would probably just throw me out of the door if I got_ that _drunk._

Continuing her descent into inebriation, Weiss swigged again from her glass, gradually desensitising herself to the harsh edge of the spirit, not even noticing the stool to her right gaining a new occupant.

“Get me a tequila slammer,” the stranger requested, the dusky tones of their voice piquing the former heiress’ interest.

As the bartender poured the shot and handed the stranger a slice of lemon, Weiss drank in the sight before her.

The stranger was a little taller than Weiss. Both sides of their head were shaved bald, with intricate purple and black tendrils of ink adorning the otherwise-pale skin. Between two black cat ears was a veritable mane of midnight, that tumbled elegantly to the small of their back. A tank top left toned shoulders open to view, and arms garbed in sleeves of beautiful ink patterns, again in a flowing, almost tribal style so popular with modern Faunus. Frayed black jeans and combat boots completed the look.

As the former heiress greedily took in the view, amber eyes met hers with a questioning gaze, causing Weiss to realise her foolish lack of subtlety and return her eyes to the drink in front of her, glimpsing in the corner of her eye as the stranger licked their hand, before knocking back a shot of clear colourless liquid and biting into the lemon slice.

At that, Weiss winced. _Why would she just…_

“You look like you’ve never seen someone drink tequila before,” the stranger teased, forcing Weiss to turn and meet those almost golden orbs once again.

“Umm…” Weiss floundered, brain paralyzed by the gorgeous stranger’s apparent interest.

“Here, I’ll show you. Dude,” they redirected towards the grizzled bartender, “two more of those. And get me a bottle of house rum and a glass.” At this the stranger tossed quite a few Lien in his direction and retrieved a salt shaker.

“Hold out your hand,” they ordered, to which Weiss obeyed wordlessly, still stupefied by their attention. She almost pulled back when they held up the salt shaker but they established a gentle but firm grip upon her wrist, calloused fingers rubbing gently against her comparatively soft skin.

“First, you lick the salt off your hand. Then, you do the shot, and then bite the lemon slice,” they explained, as the white crystals fell onto her hand.

Finding her voice, Weiss asked, “What exactly is the appeal of this… process?”

The stranger chuckled. “Man, with talk like that you won’t last long round here. You do a tequila slammer when you’re looking to get wasted. And from the look on your face when I walked into this dump,” their voice took on a wistful, almost lonely lilt, “you have as many sorrows to drown as I do.”

Weiss chuckled dryly. “You’re not wrong there.” With her free hand, she reached into her pocket for some Lien, but when she offered it the stranger refused.

“It’s alright, princess.” Weiss glared at the epithet, before turning her attention to her challenge. While they had talked, the bartender had presented two more shots of tequila and two more slices of lemon.

_This is a really bad idea._

_But we both know you’re still going through with it._

Steeling herself, she swept the salt off her hand with one smooth motion of her tongue, wincing at the tang. Quickly she threw back the spirit and then immediately bit into the slice, the lemon surprisingly pleasant as it took the edge off the liquor.

The stranger quirked an eyebrow. “Not bad, princess,” they complemented before repeating the process themselves, easily handling the strong substance.

Weiss, meanwhile, was scowling again. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What, princess?” They asked, and when Weiss nodded they answered, “Well, it’s obvious you’re from a high-class background. Your accent, your dialect, your fancy outfit and finally your complete lack of understanding of how normal people drink. Hence, princess.”

The former heiress glared into the distance, refusing to meet the stranger’s gaze. “Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Weiss fixed the stranger with a glare. “You were right. I do come from a privileged background. But as of today, that life is no longer mine. The price was too high.” She took another sip of her whisky.

“Again with the vagueness. You ever gonna spill?”

“Why do you care?”

The stranger frowned. “I figured if I wasn’t the only person with time and bad thoughts to kill tonight, some company might be nice. But if you’d rather drink yourself to death alone in a corner that’s fine by me.”

They made to stand before Weiss hesitantly reached out and laid a hand on their shoulder. “Wait, I… I’m sorry. I’ve just not been having the best day today.”

Their expression softened. “Yeah, we established that already. Now do you want me to stick around or not?”

“I-” She hesitated, then relented. “I suppose some company might be nice. I’ll try not to be so rude.”

The stranger settled back into their seat with a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. Normally, I wouldn’t be so thin-skinned but…”

Weiss nodded sympathetically. “As you say, neither of us started tonight on hard liquor for good reasons.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” the stranger replied, opening the bottle of rum they had bought and filling their small glass almost to the brim.

Weiss raised her eyebrows at the copious quantity.

The stranger replied with a grimace. “Like you said.”

The former heiress shrugged, and raised her glass. “To bad ideas?” She offered as a toast.

“Sounds about right to me, cheers,” they replied, clinking their glass against Weiss’ and taking a mighty draught.

They sat quietly for a few moments, taking a drink now and then, until Weiss asked, “I don’t believe I caught your name?”

The stranger smiled. “Blake. You?”

“I’m Weiss.”

“Nice to meet you, Weiss.”

“The same to you, Blake.”

Once again silence reigned as they took up their drinks. Eventually, Weiss’ curiosity got the better of her. “So what brought you here tonight?”

Blake sighed. “Douchebag date who stood me up. You?”

“Ouch,” Weiss winced sympathetically. “I’m hiding here after being disowned by my father.”

“Damn, that’s rough. What happened?”

The former heiress pinched the bridge of her nose. “I came out to him. He’s not exactly the most liberal of individuals, and demanded that I keep it a secret. He didn’t exactly give me a choice in the matter, since he expects – expected – me to marry some businessman to secure a takeover. So when I walked out, I packed some clothes and Lien, and left.”

“Damn, that’s rough. But hey, you were brave to be honest with him, even if he took it horribly. And at least now you’re free to be yourself, right?”

Weiss laughed without humour, a bitter chuckle of derision. “Yeah, right. I have hardly any money and nowhere to stay thanks to this Dust-damned Festival, but at least no-one’s stopping me from getting laid, right?”

Blake shrugged. “Fair point. But would you really prefer to be stuck back there, with him?”

“I suppose not,” Weiss sighed. “But anyway,” she redirected, “enough about me. Tell me more about this douchebag who stood you up.”

“Ha. Not much to say, really. Some hot client who actually managed to find her spine and ask me out. Not enough to actually show up, apparently.”

“Client?”

“Yeah, client. Don’t worry,” they added, “nothing illegal. I’m a tattoo artist. I own a little parlour not too far from here. All this ink here,” they gestured at the side of their head and their arms, “I did it.”

Weiss was stunned. The intricacy of the patterns was remarkable, and to think this strange person had done all the work themselves suggested immense talent. Before she was quite aware of what she was doing, her fingers found their way to Blake’s left arm and began to softly trace over the flowing lines. “Incredible…” she breathed, before coming to her senses and snatching her hand back with a blush.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t know what came over me, I just… They’re gorgeous, and when you said you did them all yourself, I…”

Blake chuckled softly. “It’s alright. Granted, I wasn’t expecting to be touched by a hot girl after I got stood up, but I’m not complaining,” they teased, eliciting further embarrassment.

“I wasn’t… trying to, uh, you know…”

The artist held up a hand. “Relax, princess, I know. Though it _is_ nice that even now you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Head buried in her arms, Weiss’ response was almost imperceptible through the aforementioned limbs. “Shut up.”

Blake held up their hands, still chuckling. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now, anyway.”

“What have I gotten myself into?”

=x=

Apparently, what Weiss had gotten herself into was an evening of increasingly incoherent conversation, mixed with a healthy dose of sexual tension and a splash of flirtation, for spice.

Somehow, they had made it through about half of the rum Blake had bought over the course of a few hours, landing them resolutely into outright drunkenness, dancing on the edge of excess.

Over those few hours they had both waxed eloquent about various things; Blake about some of the more… interesting work they had done on certain clients, and Weiss on the joys of the closet when interacting with other corporate heiresses. At one point they had even observed a rambunctious blonde lady get into an argument that looked to be turning into a full-blown fight, before the bartender had intervened and thrown her out. Needless to say, the whole scene had them in hysterics.

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning, and as such the two still-giggling drunkards found themselves overshadowed by the grizzled barkeep.

“You can take it outside, you two. We’re closing.”

Weiss let out an exaggerated sigh, intensifying Blake’s giggles.

“C’moooon, princess, let’s get out of this dump,” they slurred, unsteadily rising before taking the former heiress’ hands and tugging her to her feet.

The twain departed the dive, stumbling down the grubby street with no apparent destination in mind.

“Heeeeey, Blakey, lemme tell you a seeeecret,” Weiss attempted to murmur dramatically, the effect somewhat ruined by the involuntary syllabic elongation, and the fact that the sentence was not, in fact, murmured, but rather announced boldly to the entirety of the (admittedly rather empty) street.

“When I was a tiny little girl, I used to sing a looooot. My dad always got me to do these, like, opera things? Said they were, I dunno, more _respectable_ than what I used to like.”

“I gotta bit of a reputation when he started makin’ me perform. But whenever I could get away with it…” At this she leaned in conspiratorially. “I liked to put on those cheesy old rock songs and sing thooooose instead!”

Blake burst out laughing. “Oh wow, such an awl-, af-, such a baaaad secret! How couuuuld you, Weiss?” They slurred between chuckles and hiccups.

The heiress pouted. “Hey, don’t laugh! This is so serious. Look at me. This is my serious face.” She attempted to reshape her features into a stern visage, but for whatever reason her usual icy persona simply refused to show itself before the now-graceless artist. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe there was something… something about this mysterious body artist? Something that put her at ease, made her want this enigmatic individual to see the real her, not the corporate heiress?

………Probably just the alcohol.

But the artist was rather charming, it had to be said.

So much so Weiss had managed not to pay attention to their location for the past…… how long had they been walking?

“Wher’ we going, anyway?”

At this Blake hesitated. “Well, I thought, since you don’t *hic* have anywhere to stay right now *hic* you could, I dunno, crash on my couch for the night? If you *hic* wanted?”

“Blake… that’s…” Weiss whispered. “That’s the sweetest thing…” At that she promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around the Faunus, head nuzzling into their neck.

Gingerly at first, Blake returned the embrace, struggling to contain their hiccups lest they ruin the moment. After a few minutes it became apparent that not moving would not do Weiss any favours in the remaining conscious department, and so they gently extricated themselves from their companion’s grip.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s get you home.”

Pulling back, Weiss clumsily wiped her face, scowling at the mess it had become when the waterworks had let loose.

As they continued their journey, somewhat slower but a tad more stable for it, Blake couldn’t resist one more passing tease.

“You little *hic* lightweight.”

“Hey, you’re drunk too!”

“Yeahhhh, but I had twice as much as youuuuuu, and I’m pretty sure you’re still *hic* worse than me.”

=x=

It took five separate attempts before Blake managed to puzzle out the devastatingly complex mechanism that was a lock and key. With each miss, Weiss snorted in a very unladylike manner (as if any of her inebriate conduct was anything else) and eventually burst out laughing at the now somewhat embarrassed Blake.

“We both know it’d *hic* take you all morning,” they cut back, though without any real venom.

Eventually the door swung open, triggering the ringing of a series of what sounded like wind chimes. As Blake once again floundered with the locking mechanism, Weiss peered around the room, barely lit by the glare of streetlights filtering through the gaps in some sort of decoration in the windows.

Obviously this meant that she had no idea what the interior of this room was like whatsoever.

After finally locking the door behind them, Blake took the heiress’ hand and guided her through the room, their familiarity with it apparently enough to allow them to navigate it with no difficulty even while drunk in the dark.

At the far end of the room they stumbled through another door and up some stairs, into a slightly cramped living space. Blake flicked on a switch and they both flinched at the sudden blaze of light from above.

In reality it wasn’t particularly bright at all, the change appearing more intense due to their inebriation.

This appeared to be Blake’s apartment. The room was longer than it was wide. The half they emerged into contained a corner-shaped couch in the centre, the back forming a makeshift corridor into the further half, which looked to be a kitchen/diner. At the far wall, to the left of the refrigerator was a door. On the left wall there were two other doors, as well as a variety of decorations, including posters for some sort of metal band Weiss couldn’t read the name of, the stylised writing defeating her addled brain. There were also a series of photos taped to the wall, each showcasing a tattoo.

In the time it took for Weiss to observe this, Blake had stumbled to the kitchen and retrieved a pair of glasses, which they took to the sink and filled. They returned and clumsily shoved one of the glasses into Weiss’ hand. “Drink up. Hangover’s gonna suck as it is, might as well make it a little less crappy.”

Weiss chugged the water with cheery indifference, before letting out a tremendous yawn.

“Alright, couch is right there, and I’ll just go fetch you a spare blanket. We’ll *hic* we can talk more in the morning.”

“But Blake,” Weiss began, stifling giggles. “It’s already morning!” Apparently drunk Weiss was very easily amused as this simple awful line had her in hysterics.

The Faunus rolled their eyes before slipping into the door on the far side of the room. The heiress, still giggling, settled down onto the soft couch. The cushions were thick but soft, and she sank right into them. It was long enough for her to lay down almost completely straight, and the abundance of extra cushions meant for no lack of padding for her head.

When Blake returned, the heiress was already snoring softly, arm underneath a cushion. They let out a gentle smile at the sight, and softly draped the blanket they had been carrying over Weiss’ sleeping form. Their hand rested on her shoulder for a moment, thumb stroking a little, before they rose, and made their way into their own room, where they collapsed in bed immediately, without bothering to change or even remove their boots.

They, too, were asleep the instant they hit the bed.


	2. True Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Content warning for this chapter for emotional abuse – both past abuse referenced and (arguably) shown – and for misgendering. Stay safe, folks.

Unlike most of her opponents, this man had actually posed a challenge.

It was in his unique fighting style that he had the advantage – barely enough upper body strength to lift his own weight, with a stronger emphasis on kicks, in a style she had never had to contend with before.

It made the moment her fist resoundingly connected with his jaw all the more satisfying.

The instant he hit the floor, the referee began counting him out.

He made it back onto his feet half a second after the countdown ended.

As he yelled at the short referee in outrage, the brawler smirked and sauntered off, leaving him with a parting barb.

“Maybe next time.”

Unfortunately, she misjudged her opponent’s stability, else she might not have risked sending him over the edge.

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

Before she could consciously process what was happening, her legs were swept out from under her, and her calloused hands barely stopped the foot descending rapidly towards her face.

Instinctively she tightened her grip on the foot and rolled away from its owner, pulling him down onto her. The momentum of the motion kept them rolling until he was flat on his front, the brawler maintaining her grip on his foot.

Unfortunately, momentum didn’t stop there. The grip on his foot meant that his leg was pulled a little too far back a little too fast, and his scream.

Oh, his scream.

“Blondie!” A gruff voice cut though the sound of the outraged crowd.

The brawler glared at the origin of the voice, a suited man with neatly trimmed hair and beard, standing next to the double doors that led to the changing rooms from the cage.

“Let him up. We’ll talk about this later,” he growled, gesturing at the doors.

Snarling, she released her opponent’s foot and stormed past him.

=x=

The suited man arrived as the brawler was angrily ripping the tape off her bruised knuckles. They stared each other down for a moment before he broke eye contact and sighed.

“You saw. He struck first after he’d been counted out,” the brawler muttered venomously.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he replied. “I know. But the whole club saw you tear his right quad. He probably won’t fight again.”

The brawler maintained her burning glare. “He. Struck. First. I just reacted.”

“I know that, but they,” he gestured towards the doors, “don’t care right now. And the last thing either of us need is angry customers.” He seemed to deliberate internally before pulling out a large wad of cash. “Here,” he proffered the money to the brawler, “your take for the night, plus a little extra.”

The brawler riffled through the wad and took a smaller amount than was offered, and turned away. “I don’t want your pity, Junior.”

“It’s not pity, Blondie. You’re on a break.”

Blondie faced him again, glare back in full force. “What the hell?!”

“Like I said, they all saw you put that asshole out of the biz. You and I might agree he deserved it, but our opinion doesn’t matter as much as theirs. They’re the ones who pay to see you fight. They’re the ones who put food on your table. You need to take some time out, let them forget about tonight. You take all of this,” he waved the remaining Lien, “you treat yourself, you look after little Red and that dusty old crow. And when people have had time to forget what happened tonight, you come back. It’ll be alright.”

Blondie’s mask of fury slipped a little.

Junior gently laid his other hand on her shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright, Yang. I can have my folks put some good words out about you. Let people know your side of the story. You know the twins can be pretty persuasive.”

She let out a cynical chuckle at that.

“Take the cash. Take the night for yourself. I’ll take care of everything.”

Yang wavered, before dropping her gaze floorward and taking the rest of the proffered money.

Junior nodded, relieved, and began to walk out.

He almost missed the cracked, shaky word the brawler let slip.

“Thanks.”

=x=

It was only after she reached the shitty old dive and got herself a beer that her friend bailed.

_nep came over. his dads at it again. sorry._

Quickly she tapped out a response.

_dw about it sun, just look after him ok_

A moment after she set her Scroll down on the table it buzzed again, a single thumbs-up emoji her only response.

And so in her own little corner, she nursed a cheap, nasty beer alone.

For about five minutes. Then _she_ turned up.

Short, petite, her slight face framed by locks pink on one side and brown on the other, shot with white highlights. One eye brown, the other pink, thanks to a strange genetic mutation.

The instant their eyes met a predatory grin sprouted on her face and she sauntered over, drink in hand. How she had gotten the grim man behind the bar to serve her something so outrageously pink in a place like this Yang had no idea.

Yang felt herself tense up at the teasing approach, stiff as a board by the time the woman arrived at her table, perching herself on the stool opposite without so much as a by-your-leave.

After she set her glitzy drink down, she signed, _“Alone again, are we?”_

The one thing the brawler could be grateful to this person for was the fact that she wouldn’t know Atlesian Sign Language if she hadn’t dated her. As such, Yang was easily able to interpret the gestures, and out of courtesy she replied in kind, movements a touch halting due to her minor lack of practise recently. _“Neo. Charming as always.”_

Neo smirked. _“So what does bring you here, all alone?”_

_“Not that it’s any of your business,”_ Yang retorted, motions sharpening, _“but I was supposed to be meeting Sun. He just had to bail, that’s all.”_

_“The monkey boy? You still put up with that douchebag?”_

_“Hey! He might be cocky sometimes, but he looks out for his friends. Which is more than I can say for you. And anyway,”_ Yang added, a little too gleefully, _“I don’t see you here with anyone.”_

The multi-coloured girl frowned, narrowing her heterochromatic eyes. _“Screw you. Oh, wait, you wussed out when I tried. Oh, well, I guess I'll just have to have some fun with my hot date, instead. She should be here in a few minutes.”_

At this, Yang was a touch beyond pissed off, as evidenced by her switch to vocal communication. “Not cool, Neo. You don’t get to play with my emotions, push me too far and then just fling yourself at my table like you own me.”

Neo smirked. _“Well I didn’t hear you complaining. Sure you don’t miss me?”_

Yang snorted. “Yeah, you wish. But whatever. You came to me, I'm not keeping you here.”

To call what these two engaged in for the next few hours over several drinks banter would wrongly imply an underlying respect between the two women.

It was one long drunken bitch-fest.

Yang lost track of how long they had sat there, trading barbs and driving each other up the wall, in their little corner, out of sight of the bar itself. Trapped in her own personal hell, with no one to bear witness to her torment.

Of course, their isolated location also meant that Neo didn’t notice when a certain Faunus with a mane of midnight strutted in and settled at the bar, thinking they had been stood up.

=x=

As the exes stumbled back to the bar around midnight for another refill, the brawler remarked with a slight slur, “Weren't you supposed to be meeting some hottie tonight?”

_“What can I say, she must've bailed. Guess I just attract quitters and cowards.”_

However, the multi-coloured girl still looked a bit dejected.

“Wish I'd been that smart. If I was as hot as you say this person was I sure as hell wouldn’t settle for a backstabbing bitch like you. Oh, wait, I am, and I didn't!” Yang cackled madly at her own wit.

Neo turned away, not even deigning to sign a response. When she did so, her gaze drifted to a small table by the window, which she hadn’t noticed before. At it was seated a young Faunus with bold sleeves tattooed on their pale skin, and a girl who looked far too rich and classy for the dump they were in.

Seeing the Faunus, Neo’s eyes widened, and her grip on her glass tightened, her knuckles whitening as they formed a vice on the poor little object.

Even drunk, Yang retained her considerable observational skills, which had been nurtured in the cage.

“Seen someone you know?” She asked, light and teasing.

_“That bitch! She was supposed to be meeting me, and she just strolls off with some high-end whore instead?”_

“Well you did spend a few hours trying to get a rise out of me. Maybe you got so distracted you didn’t notice her coming in?” Yang smirked.

Neo retrieved her phone from her jacket. Yang completely without subtlety leaned over her shoulder to peer at the small screen. The contents of the message were rather standard for Neo – callous, biting, and manipulative.

In her drunken haze, Yang almost thought she could see a glimpse of the future. She could just see this stranger, _who actually is kinda hot holy cow wait what brain not now_ being sucked into the same cycle of manipulation Yang herself spent months fighting to escape. She could see the arguments, the kind, simpering front that Neo would present after, oh so sorry and prepared to try make things work, the gentle caresses meant to lower the guard, then the increase in pressure, tension and demand, until it all exploded and she came back apologetic and started the whole damn thing all over again and she knew there and then that she wasn't going to sit back and watch that wretched excuse for a person fuck someone up like that again.

And so she bullheadedly made for the table at which the Faunus sat, fully intent on warning them not to get sucked into the bullshit in the first place.

Until a slim hand closed on her wrist.

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” Yang growled.

She turned her head to the side in time to see Neo’s reply, which was simple enough for her to sign with only one hand. _“Don't.”_

Of course, Yang, having been through so much at Neo’s hands, had been looking for an excuse to lash out. Now she had a chance to get one good hit in.

“Alright. That's it. You crossed the line.” But as she drew her hand back to deliver a haymaker, another hand wrapped around the offending wrist. The gruff man from behind the bar had somehow manoeuvred himself around to the two women from his usual post with alarming speed.

With his unoccupied hand, he pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”

Yang was outraged. “She grabbed me! It's just self-defence.”

The bartender stared right back, indifferent. “Don't care. Both of you, out now.”

Neo shrugged and signed, _“This place is a dump anyway. See ya, bitch.”_

She sauntered off, leaving Yang trying and failing to yank her hand out of the bartender's grip. “You too,” he spat.

He pulled her roughly towards the door, despite her protests. When they reached it his spare hand found her shoulder and firmly shoved her out. Yang stumbled and fell to the ground. _Damn. Should've stopped after the fifth. It's always the fifth..._

“It's always the fifth!” She proclaimed to the empty street, beginning the short walk home as she dissolved into tears and giggles at her own stupidity.

=x=

A few assholes with bad ideas on how to treat women made some lewd comments at the blonde as she made her way home, but she quickly relieved them of any notions of the acceptability of their behaviour – with sass if they were on the opposite side of the road and with her fists if not.

Eventually, she reached her home. A run-down terraced house sandwiched between a half dozen clones of itself on either side. After some minor fumbling with keys she thrust open the door, wincing as it boldly declared her presence with a god-awful screech. Hopefully, her uncle had already drank himself to sleep.

And her sister...

Yang made her way up the stairs and down the corridor to her room at the far end, in a passable imitation of stealth by the standards of a bulldozer. That is, slamming into the wall with every alternate step until the sheer force of her drunken shenanigans let her smash straight through her bedroom door.

As she sat on her single bed and fumbled with the laces of her black and yellow combat boots a red head peered around the door.

“Yang?” The person attached to the head spoke softly. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

Startled, the brawler's gaze rocketed upwards to the diminutive girl now leaning hesitantly into the room.  “Rubes, it's, like, suuuuper late. You should be in bed!”

The girl chewed her lip before replying. “I couldn’t sleep ‘cause I was worried about you.”

A wave of guilt washed over the brawler. _She still doesn’t know..._

“I'm fine, honest! Just went out to meet Sun. He had to bail, though.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes. “If you didn’t meet him then why are you drunk?”

Yang's gaze fell. “I ran into Neo at the bar.”

“And you had a drink with her? After everything she put you through?!” The girl's voice became increasingly shrill as the sentence went on.

“Shhh! Careful, you don’t want to wake Uncle Qrow.”

The girl had the decency at least to look bashful. “Sorry. But still! You can't let her pull you back into anything!”

“Relax, Ruby,” Yang replied in a placating tone. “We're not gonna get back together. I just wanted an excuse to tell her how horrible she was.”

Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. You gonna be alright?”

“Pffft, I'm barely tipsy. I'll be fine,” she lied.

Ruby didn’t look convinced, but knew from experience that arguing with drunk Yang was pointless.

“Alright. Goodnight, Yang.”

“Goodnight, Rubes.”

The younger girl slunk off, worry burning in her heart.

The older simply sat, head in hands, wrestling with her conscience.

Not for the first time, sleep did not grace her with its presence for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, slightly shorter chapter this time, mainly cause there isn’t as much shippy interaction :P this will probably set a trend for this fic – alternating in POV from one of the monochrome pair to Yang, since her story is less intertwined with that of the others.  
> Comments are amazing :D  
> See you next time!


	3. What Lies Ahead

Surprise was the first thing that entered Weiss’ mind. Both at the fact that she was on a relatively comfortable surface after the previous day's events, and at the distinct lack of a headache she felt despite providing considerable assistance in the noble cause of emptying a bottle of cheap rum.

When she sat up, however, it hit her. Suddenly a wave machine was running on full power right in her stomach and her gorge valiantly struggled upwards. Barely keeping the contents of her stomach where they belonged, the former heiress settled back onto the squishy couch, resolving to let her body recover more before attempting any form of motion.

As she laid there, on the sofa of a complete stranger, she allowed the events of the previous night to come back to her. Meeting a highly attractive stranger, getting far too drunk and winding up in their apartment was not the way she envisioned running away from home would end.

Not that she was complaining – without Blake's intervention, who knows where she might have ended up?

_Ah, speak of the devil._

She heard a door creak slightly, the noise a touch unpleasant to her sensitive brain. She attempted to greet them, but only managed a strangled squeak.

_Okay, that was not dignified. Let's try that again._

“Blake?” She murmured, voice barely forming the word. Fearing for her ability to retain yesterdays lunch, she couldn’t sit up and gaze at the artist, which was probably for the best, since she would only have seen that Blake was one of those ridiculously fortunate people who was still gorgeous even when a wreck first thing in the morning.

The Faunus merely grunted in reply, not a morning person under the best of circumstances. Weiss heard what sounded like a refrigerator door opening and closing, followed by a clicking sound.

“You aren’t a vegetarian, right?” Blake croaked.

Puzzled, Weiss replied in the negative.

“Good. I'm making bacon.”

Now she understood why people praised the meat as the best hangover cure – the sound of the oil hissing and the smoky aroma were heavenly.

After a few minutes, Blake finally entered her field of view, bearing two small plates with a bacon sandwich on each. After having the aforementioned oh-god-they're-hot-even-first-thing-in-the-morning revelation, Weiss greedily dug into the food, savouring the crisp texture.

Given their respective states neither person wasted time conversing while there was bacon anywhere but in their stomachs.

After scarfing down their meals, however, the silence stretched out uncomfortably.

Eventually Blake broke it. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly...” Weiss began uncertainly, “I haven’t the faintest idea. I'm not entirely sure how to respond to the last twenty four hours, to be honest.”

Blake nodded. “I can't say I blame you.”

Eyes fixed firmly on the wall, Weiss nervously asked, “When do you want me to leave?” She was proud that her voice remained stable.

The artist frowned. “Do you have somewhere else to stay?”

_Well, there it is._

“I...” she began, before being cut off.

“That's a no. In which case I don’t want you gone any time soon.” They seemed to realise how this sounded and quickly backtracked. “I'm not going to stop you if you want to leave but I'm not going to kick you out onto the streets, either.”

Again Weiss was dumbstruck. This stranger had to be too good to be true. “Why? Why are you helping me?”

Blake appeared puzzled. “What, you think I'm just gonna make you sleep rough or something? What kind of person would do that?”

“Well in all fairness, most people wouldn't voluntarily accommodate someone they met in a bar.”

“Fair point. But you were punished and mistreated for reasons beyond your control. That I can relate to.” At this their feline ears twitched. “Also,” they added, “I know what it's like being a young person, especially one seen as female, living on the streets. You don’t deserve that.”

That made sense, Weiss supposed. Still, there was something in Blake's phrasing that seemed strange. “Seen as female?” She quoted as a question.

“That's right. Actually, that’s probably something I should tell you if you're going to be staying here for any period of time. I know I might look like one, and anatomically you might want to say that I am one, but...” They were momentarily stumped for how to explain the complicated and confusing mess that was their gender.

Fortunately, Weiss had some understanding of such things, and attempted to complete their sentence. “...in your head, and your heart, you're something else?”

Relieved, Blake confirmed this. “Yeah. I don’t think I'm male, just sort of neutral, gender-wise. But I use the ‘they’ pronoun.”

Weiss nodded. “Sure. I'll try to remember.”

Tension bled out of the Faunus at this. “Thanks.”

With that revelation out of the way, the silence descended once more upon the quiet apartment. After a few moments of struggling through it, Blake stood and announced their intention to make coffee.

Weiss could have kissed them when they said that.

_Okay, perhaps that’s an exaggeration._

_Then again, they are rather cute…_

_They’re also your host. Behave._

_Oh Dust, what am I doing…_

As the kettle boiled, Weiss once again made an attempt, slower this time, to sit up. Noticing a clock above the stove, Weiss frowned. "Don't you have a tattoo parlour to run? It's eleven in the morning."

Blake shook their head as they bustled about, retrieving mugs and a cafetiere. _Excellent, actual coffee instead of that instant muck._ "Not yet. Since I usually end up going out on Friday nights, I just started not opening the store until midday on weekends. And I only have two appointments today anyway. Sun'll handle the rest."

"Fair enough," Weiss replied. "I assume this Sun is an employee of yours?"

The Faunus nodded. "He's a decent guy. Flirts with everyone he thinks he has a chance with, though. If you like, I can mention he's _really_ not your type. He'll respect it."

Weiss nodded gratefully. "That would be much appreciated."

A click announced the kettle's completion of its work. Rummaging in a cupboard, Blake retrieved a bag of coffee and emptied a liberal quantity into the cafetiere, before adding the water and pressing down the filter a few times. "Do you take milk or sugar?" They inquired.

"No, thank you. I need the bitterness, it helps keep me sharp."

Blake nodded, and after adding a liberal amount of milk to their own mug brought the nectar of the gods to the still somewhat nauseous heiress.

After downing about half the mug in one go, ignoring the fiery protests from her pain receptors, Weiss commented, "And here I thought good coffee would be something I'd have to go without. Thank you."

Blake chuckled. "Yeah, well, after that much rum I think you earned it."

"Ugh, don't even remind me. I made an absolute fool of myself, I don't doubt."

"You don't remember?" Blake inquired, quirking an eyebrow.

Weiss hid her face behind her slim hands. "Oh, Dust, what did I do?" A terrifying thought then occurred to her. "I didn't hit on you, did I?"

Blake paused, torn between doing the kind thing, or the funny thing. Eventually they settled on the former, saving the worst of teasing for when the two had a better rapport. "Aside from stroking my sleeves a little, no. Though you did tell me about your love for old rock music, which you seemed to think was embarrassing."

Scarlet filled Weiss' complexion. "Damnit."

"Weiss, the fact you like Iggy Pop isn't embarrassing. That fact that you _think_ it is, however..." Alright, so maybe Blake had to get a little teasing in there.

"Shut up. Corporate heiresses don't listen to such... vulgar material. If any of my old 'friends' had found out I would've been a laughing stock."

"Pffft, Iggy's tame. You want vulgar, you should try Steel Panther."

"Please don't tell me you actually _like_ those... those... _perverts_."

"Of course not, but if I got a single Lien for every time some fuckboy sang that awful number about the rabbit Faunus in heat at me in a club I'd be richer than they are."

Weiss shuddered at the thought. She might not have been in a nightclub before, but she still knew the feeling of severe discomfort and fear that came with guys who couldn't take a hint.

With that, the conversation petered off, and the two turned to the all-important task of caffeinating. The quiet moment was a touch less uncomfortable this time, Weiss thought.

When her mug was empty, Weiss attempted the Herculean task of standing up. Feeling every slight shift in her centre of gravity going right to her stomach, the former heiress shifted her legs until her feet met the floor, and slowly ascended.

After she lifted her backpack from the floor she turned and asked, "I need to change. Where's the bathroom?"

"Second door on the left," Blake replied, pointing it out.

The former heiress nodded and headed into the small room to change, swapping her traditional white bolero and skirt for something more casual – her one pair of jeans and a plain sky blue t-shirt. She also attempted to quickly run a brush through her voluminous locks, and so naturally ended up struggling with it for around half an hour instead, cursing viciously at every knot.

At one point Blake had knocked on the door and asked if she was alright, the constant stream of venomous profanity giving the Faunus cause for concern.

Eventually she emerged, hair soft and straight, tied back into her customary side tail, to find Blake had also changed. They now wore a black t-shirt with an old rock band's album cover emblazoned on the front, slightly baggier black jeans, and a beanie hat with holes cut for their feline ears. As they stretched Weiss glimpsed a black undergarment that looked rather tight. _Must be a binder._

_How can they look so good when they present as neutral, too? It's not fair._

Blake caught her staring and quirked an eyebrow. "I could make a comment about how you can't seem to keep your eyes off of me but I think you know how bad you've got it better that I do," they said, smirking.

Weiss opted for remaining silent, lest she unintentionally fill her mouth with her foot by the mere act of opening it.

Blake sauntered towards the exit. "I need to open the shop soon. Wifi router is on the kitchen counter, password's on the back. I'm assuming you have a laptop or a Scroll."

The former heiress chewed her lip. "Actually," she began nervously. "I was wondering if I could... come down with you?"

"Don't feel like being alone?" They asked.

"Something like that," she replied quietly.

"Sure. Don't mess with any sterile equipment and don't get in the way, otherwise you're more than welcome to keep us company."

"Thanks."

With that the two stepped out of the small apartment and headed down to the parlour proper.

=x=

Downstairs, Weiss finally got a decent look at the interior of the studio. Below a wide window on her left was a counter and a cash register. The former heiress did not miss the cup filled with lollipops in front of the register. More images of tattoos lined the walls, except the surface directly behind the counter, which instead had the words _Belladonna Delights_ painted in crimson and black gothic lettering. Further into the building on the left was a door. Two more lined the right hand wall, soft leather couches between the two doors, and between the far door and the wall. Speakers were nestled in every corner, playing from an old mp3 player mounted in a dock behind the counter, the variation between classic rock and the occasional bit of nu-metal evoking a rough-around-the-edges yet strangely welcoming feel to the whole place.

A few minutes before noon a man of middling height arrived. Blake let him in, granting Weiss the sight of raven locks with a single streak of pink matching his unusually-pigmented lilac eyes. In response to a questioning look from him, Blake merely said, "This is Weiss. She's a friend." Turning to the former heiress, they added, "This is Ren. He's our resident piercing expert, and the guy who helped me set up this place."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Weiss enunciated precisely, extending a hand.

Taking her hand in a firm but not excessive shake, the slim man responded, "Likewise."

Turning to Blake, he added, "I should probably warn you that Nora intends to visit today."

The Faunus grinned. "That should be interesting." In response to Weiss' confused expression Blake explained, "Nora is Ren's... well to be honest nobody knows exactly. Ren's pretty cagey about it, and Nora herself just likes to keep us guessing, I think. She is... an experience. Just brace yourself."

With no small amount of dread Weiss nodded as Ren strolled calmly into the room opposite the counter.

A clock above the entrance ticked over to noon, and Blake sighed. "Sun's late again." They turned the 'closed' sign in the door window to 'open' and took a seat in a revolving armchair behind the counter, tension in their jaw.

=x=

Over the next half hour there was a little small talk between the two, though Weiss did not fail to notice her host's growing frustration with their absentee employee. Eventually a tall man burst into the parlour, breathless, pleading apologies and begging for a merciful death.

The shirt he wore was a white button-down shirt that he left open, displaying an impressive range of muscle. Hell, if Weiss wasn't gay she would've almost been tempted to describe him as hot. Short spiky blonde hair matched the colour of a long tail that waved frantically in an attempt to stabilize him after his clumsy entrance.

Breathlessly he spluttered out, "Sorry! Nep... came over. Had to... y'know."

Bloody murder changed to sympathy on the artist's face in a heartbeat. "Of course. Not a problem."

Sensing she had missed something, Weiss shot Blake a quizzical look. The Faunus shook their head and mouthed, "Not now."

“Thanks. He's doin' better now, I let him stay at mine for the day.”

“Good idea. Anyway, today I've got that biker dude coming in at two, that'll keep me busy for a while, and that guy who wanted that symbol on his ankle. If you could handle anyone who comes in out of the blue, that'd be great.” Blake ordered.

Sun nodded, then turned to Weiss.

_Crap, here it comes._

Before he could rattle off a terrible pick-up line, his boss’ voice cracked like a whip. “And don’t flirt with the gay girl who's staying with me!”

Wincing, the monkey Faunus instead proffered a hand, looking a little sheepish. “Hey, I'm Sun.”

“...Weiss.” She replied curtly, gingerly shaking his hand before quickly withdrawing.

“You must be something special, if the boss let you hang out after.”

_Why is he assuming... oh, right. They introduced me as a gay girl staying with them. Helpful._

“Sun!” Blake's glare bordered on lethal, so Sun raised his hands in surrender and made for the room next to Ren’s, chuckling at his own ‘joke’.

The short woman turned her legendary ‘Ice Queen’ glare on the artist. “Is it entirely necessary for you to suggest I'm another one of your... conquests?”

Blake looked a touch abashed. “Sorry. I'll clarify with him later.”

Expression softening a little, Weiss replied. “Thank you.”

_I should probably learn to stand up for myself more. If I was able to come out to one of the most prejudiced men on Remnant, I should be able to do so with the occasional unwanted suitor._

Tension in the air, the two did not speak much after that.

=x=

When a burly man in a leather jacket stepped into the parlour, Weiss had him pegged as the biker Blake had mentioned earlier.

Despite his appearance, however, his voice was soft and shy, gentle as a summer breeze.

“Mx Belladonna,” he opened timidly.

Blake waved a hand. “While I appreciate the gender-neutral honorific, Blake will do just fine.”

“Of course. Blake. A pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise.” Without further ado they stood and made for the third room. “Shall we?”

The biker nodded and entered the studio. Blake called Sun through and asked him to hold the counter while she worked. Then, turning to Weiss, they added, “This guy wants a bit of privacy. Ren's not busy if you want to talk to someone who isn't an ass.” They smirked at the monkey Faunus as they finished the sentence.

Sun gaped in mock outrage. “If I'm such an ass then why don’t you just fire me?”

“I'm using you for your artistic talents. And your abs. That's basically it.” Before the blond could retort Blake stuck out their tongue and entered their studio, shutting the door behind them.

Grinning, Weiss had to join in on the fun. “They have you right around their little finger, don’t they?”

Sun sighed and nodded, a pitiful expression on his face.

“Aww, I almost feel sorry for you.”

The door clicked open for a moment. “Don't!” Blake called. “He practises that kicked puppy look in front of the mirror twice a day!” With that it slammed shut again.

Indeed the corners of his mouth couldn’t quite stop themselves from turning upwards, destroying the façade. Weiss made a mental note never to trust his face ever again.

“Damnit, almost had ya there,” he joked.

Weiss opted not to respond, turning on her heel and making for Ren’s studio.

Inside she found the man taking stock. A large section of the left wall had a set of tiny drawers, each presumably containing a different piercing, which Ren checked through one by one. Opposite was an elongated seat, which a client could either sit or lie down on, at their own discretion. Against the far wall was a sink and a series of bottles.

The shorter woman cleared her throat, causing Ren to turn. Merely by quirking an eyebrow he expressed his curiosity at her presence.

“Um, Blake's client arrived and wanted some privacy, so they suggested I could talk to you while they work?” Even as she stumbled through the sentence she knew how lame it sounded.

Ren, however, merely nodded, seeming to accept this without complaint.

Casting her gaze around, Weiss’ brain went into overdrive as she searched for a conversation topic. Eventually her burning curiosity and more than mild apprehension won out, and she blurted, “So who actually is this ‘Nora’ Blake felt the need to warn me about?”

Ren did not reply immediately, worrying Weiss. It seemed that he was simply taking his time to formulate a proper response, however, as after a few moments he spoke softly. “Nora is a dear friend of mine. Blake likely warned you about her because she is a very... energetic individual. Some people find her a little overwhelming at first, but if you intend to stay with Blake for any length of time you will likely get used to her. She is...”

At this he paused, his hands coming to a momentary halt on the drawers. His solemn face had turned towards the former heiress slightly, granting her sight of his eye. A faint smile tugged at his thin lips. “She is passionate and caring, almost aggressively so. Well,” he chuckled gently, “there’s not ‘almost’ about it. Though most people just see a hyperactive girl who talks too much, if you get to know her you will find a truly steadfast friend. Her heart is full of kindness and love, and it always shines through.” He seemed to fall out of a daze then, and as a flush rose up onto his cheeks he cleared his throat and returned to his task.

“She sounds like someone truly important to you,” Weiss offered, hoping not to exacerbate the man’s apparent embarrassment.

The piercing expert simply nodded once.

All of a sudden, Weiss heard something large slamming against a wall, followed by an unearthly screech of “WHERE'S MY RENNY?”

Wincing a little, Ren mumbled, “And that would be Nora.” Raising his voice, he called out, “In here. Please try not to break anything. Else.”

A squeal that a banshee would've been proud of was all the warning Weiss had to move away from the door before the human equivalent of a thunderstorm burst through it. In reality, what burst through was a diminutive but apparently deceptively strong redhead, who proceeded to immediately leap at the piercing expert who had wisely stepped away from the shelves.

As she enveloped the slight man with her embrace she screamed his name again. Weiss internally remarked at the volume the shorter woman was capable of producing.

Gently Ren returned the embrace. After around a minute the redhead finally disentangled herself from her stoic friend and rounded on Weiss, vivid turquoise eyes burning with inquisitiveness.

“Heya, stranger! What's up? And don’t say something smart, like the sky, or clouds, or mountains, that joke’s been done to death and then some. Honestly!” She rattled off only slightly slower than the average assault rifle.

The former heiress was stupefied. All her training in corporate etiquette was useless here. After all, the chances of meeting such a lively individual in the world of business was only slightly more likely than simultaneously being struck by lightning, eaten alive by a shark and crushed by a meteorite.

Thus, she fell back on the basics. “Um.” She attempted. “Uhh.” She tried again.

Suddenly Nora squealed and clutched her tiny fists to her mouth. “Oh crap, she's not just super pretty, she's adorable too! Wait, did I just say that out loud? Meh, whatever, it's not like I try to hide how hella gay I am.”

At this Weiss blushed furiously. Valiantly she made another attempt at speech, actually making it to the coherent sentence stage this time. “Why is it that half the people I've met in the past twenty four hours have tried to hit on me?”

Nora looked puzzled. “Uh, didn’t you hear me? Y'know, all that stuff about you being beautiful and seriously cute? That's probably why, silly!”

“If you say so,” the former heiress mumbled in response.

Nora was nothing if not persistent, however. “You got a name, cutie?”

Cheeks remaining aflame, Weiss muttered her name.

The redhead frowned. “I can't hear youuuuuu!” She responded in a sing-song voice.

“It's Weiss.” She attempted, a bit louder this time.

“Oooh, that’s a pretty name. I’m Nora. But then, you probably knew that already.” Her voice dropped to a deep imitation of Blake’s dusky tones. “My reputation precedes me, apparently,” she teased, not seeming fazed by the thought.

“You’re not wrong.”

Nora looked the former heiress up and down. “Wow, I might have competition for the girliest girl in our little group with you here!” Even without her skirt, Weiss did come across as rather… dainty.

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “Well, your outfit is a lot more feminine than mine,” she responded, referring to the redhead’s white and pink blouse and skirt combo. After a moment of hesitation she added, “The look suits you.”

Apparently Nora had difficulty coherently accepting compliments, as the sound she made could only be described as a ‘squee’ as she closed her eyes and vibrated slightly in joy.

In response to her perplexed expression Ren explained, “Nora is trans. Being referred to in feminine terms gives her a sense of euphoria, as long as you don't overdo it.”

“Duly noted. Since Ren has been using the ‘she’ pronoun for you, I assume that is your preference?”

Nora nodded, then without warning flung herself at the former heiress, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Thanks.” She whispered hoarsely into the slightly taller woman's ear. Before Weiss could respond or even attempt to return it the embrace ended as abruptly as it began, and suddenly the giddy, cheery girl was back. “So what are you, like actually doing here? Did I interrupt Ren giving you a piercing or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Weiss reassured Nora. “We were just talking.”

The redhead looked puzzled. “You came all the way to a tattoo parlour to have a chat? Do you know Ren from somewhere or something?”

“No, I'm staying with Blake for a while, but they're busy with a client.”

With an exaggerated ‘ohhhhhhh’, Nora nodded. Immediately her expression shifted back to confusion.

Sensing there was nothing short of the whole truth that would satisfy the redhead, Weiss explained her predicament, detailing the last conversation she had with her father, her meeting Blake, and the cat Faunus’ offer.

A strange light came into Nora’s eyes as the former heiress told her tale. When she finished, the redhead offered, “Do you want me to break your dad’s legs? Because I can _totally_ break his legs.”

Weiss did not doubt the sincerity of the offer for a second. Thus, she emphatically rejected it, lest she become an accessory to assault.

At that moment a man walked into the studio. Weiss heard him asking Sun about piercings. “Looks like you have a client. Guess I'll leave you to your work,” she sighed.

Nora was also a touch put out, but brightened when Ren reminded her they had plans for the evening together. After giving him a hug that reminded him just how brittle bone can be, she skipped off, singing a nonsensical tune.

Without further ado Weiss shuffled out of Ren's studio, resigning herself to the company of the insufferable flirt.

Yet when she returned to the entrance hall she found the monkey Faunus in deep concentration over a sketchbook. It took him a few minutes to notice she had sank into one of the couches. _Holy Dust, Blake has good taste in couches._ When he did, his tail quirked up and he offered a friendly wave, before resuming his work.

Not wanting to interrupt him in what she assumed to be a rare moment of quiet, Weiss cast her gaze around the displays showing off Blake's work. Everything from roses to skulls to sleeves to intricate tribal patterns was in full view, a testament to the cat Faunus’ considerable talents.

As the music shifted into a familiar set of notes, Weiss found herself singing along softly to a very old song indeed. A song about a passenger, riding along in the dead of night beneath a starlit sky. As she sang, a deeper voice joined the chorus, counterbalancing her much higher notes rather sweetly. Not wanting herself to ruin the moment, she kept her gaze on the images on the walls, knowing full well that the instant she consciously processed that Sun actually had a lovely voice they would end up talking and not singing anymore.

If that wasn’t enough, as the final chorus aired a dusky voice, pitched between hers and Sun’s, melded in with their own, audible even through the door as the three all softly vocalised the last few notes in a rough yet not unpleasant harmony.

“Lala-lala-lalalala... Lala-lala-lalalala... Lala-lala-lalalala-lalala...”

As the melody faded away into a new track, Weiss finally turned and met Sun’s gaze. “Damn,” he spoke softly. “That's one heck of a voice you got there.”

Clearing her throat, Weiss returned, “You aren't so bad yourself.”

A genuine smile came onto his face then. Then, abruptly, it shifted to a frown.

Catching the sudden shift, Weiss asked if something was wrong.

“Yeah, there is. I, uh, kinda overheard you talking to Nora earlier. Doesn't seem right someone could get treated so badly.”

Turning away, the former heiress responded bitterly. “Well, that's a CEO for you. And frankly, he's one of the nicer ones. It's a cutthroat world.”

Sun nodded. “Ain't that the Dust-damned truth.” He seemed to be internally wrestling with himself, before he added, “But it's not all bad. There's people that'll look out for someone like you.”

“True. Blake is being very kind.”

“Oh, that’s just how they are. They've been in tough spots before, they know what its like. But that's not who I meant.”

“Oh?”

The monkey Faunus seemed to hesitate some more before apparently deciding ‘fuck it’ and launching into his sentence. “There's a club about ten, fifteen minutes from here. The owner, Hei Xiong, he's good people. Everybody calls him Junior. He hires disadvantaged young people, gives ‘em a way for getting back on their feet, y'know?”

_Is that what I am now? Disadvantaged?_

_I'm technically homeless, with nothing but the clothes on my back and the few Lien I could siphon into a non-SDC affiliated bank. I think that probably counts._

She might have... neglected to mention that she wasn’t _entirely_ destitute. Something to be rectified soon, lest she incur the wrath of her host.

Sun, meanwhile, was still in full swing. “He gives on-the-job training for bartenders and security. Although, no offence, but you don’t quite seem the bouncer type.”

Weiss accepted the remark with equanimity.

“I used to work there myself, and I know someone who still does. If you like, I can put you in touch with her. She's pretty tight with Junior, she could get you an interview, easy. I'd do it myself, only my schedule's pretty full since my friend's staying with me.”

At that point Ren’s client emerged, a small silver stud in each lobe.

With a few well-placed compliments, Sun set the man at ease before accepting payment. As the client left Ren himself emerged. Weiss noted the hint of tension in his neck.

“Before you send her to Junior's, you should tell her about _all_ of the facilities he runs.” His tone was calm but firm, and brooked no dissent. With that, he returned to his enclave.

Weiss looked from the raven-haired man to the blond, assumption already on the tip of her tongue before Sun pre-empted her. “It's not what you're thinking! He’s not a pimp, or anything.”

The former heiress narrowed her eyes. “Then what exactly does he run, that you tried to avoid disclosing?”

The monkey Faunus scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “He, uh... kinda runs an underground fight club?” Before Weiss could voice her objections he hastily added, “But you wouldn’t have to do anything like that! The only people who go in the cage really want to be there. He never forces people into it.”

Realisation bloomed in her mind. “You were in the cage, once.”

He merely nodded. “So's the person you'd be meeting. She's one of his best.”

_Is this what I am reduced to? Consorting with lowlifes and criminals, just to survive?_

_Then again, Sun worked there, and he seems decent enough. Isn't this the type of prejudice I took a stand against?_

Sun was looking at her expectantly. After a brief moment's consideration, she agreed. She did need some form of income, after all.

The monkey Faunus gave a toothy grin. “Alright, princess! Time to get you down with the common folk!”

Weiss rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on, you were thinking it.”

Instead of dignifying that comment with a response, she merely asked the name of the person she was to meet.

“Her name is Yang. Yang Xiao Long.”

=x=

After that conversation, the rest of the day passed with little further event. Between jobs, Blake sat with Sun and Weiss and they talked the hours away. A few people came through for piercings but Sun was left fairly unoccupied. Eventually, the day came to a close, and a few minutes before eight, Blake began closing up the parlour. After exchanging the typical farewell courtesies with Weiss, Sun and Ren departed for places unknown.

Once they had left, Blake locked the front door and gestured to the back. Weiss followed and soon they were back in the apartment, sprawled on the couch.

“I. Am. Starving.” Blake groaned after a few moments of quiet enjoyment of the blessed couch.

“Me too.”

“I don’t have the motivation to cook tonight. Pizza?”

“That sounds like heaven.” On occasion Weiss had been able to sneak some of the sinful treat, and now that Blake had put the notion in her mind she had one hell of a craving.

With an apparently immense effort Blake stood and briefly shot into their bedroom, returning with a laptop. Weiss also noted they had removed their binder.

_Translation: Stop staring at Blake's chest._

The cat Faunus seated themselves next to the heiress and unfolded the computer, navigating to a takeaway website once the infernal thing eventually loaded itself back up.

They playfully evaluated each others taste in toppings – Weiss taking great amusement from Blake's stereotypical adoration for seafood – before settling on a large meat feast with garlic bread to share.

While they waited for their food to arrive, they discussed the day. Weiss was both touched and a slight bit saddened to learn the biker had in fact had a monochromatic portrait of his late husband inked into his right shoulder. They chattered about other inconsequential things, before Blake suggested they watch something on Netflix while they ate.

Weiss couldn’t help but make the obvious joke. “Blake, did you just ask me to ‘Netflix and chill’ with you?”

To her surprise the Faunus blushed. Flustered Blake, the former heiress decided in that moment, was adorable. And kind of hot.

_Why does this have to happen?_

Weiss almost missed Blake's mumbled comment. “Would this be a bad time to point out I was planning on suggesting we move to my room?” Weiss simply gave them a disbelieving look. “Not because I have any ulterior motives, or anything! It's just... more space, and blankets.”

The former heiress had to confess they had a point there.

And so the monochromatic pair found themselves wrapped in a thin summer quilt, pillows stacked beneath their fronts as they lazed, ate pizza and watched a classic movie about a girl who joined Mistral Law University to be with her ex-boyfriend, only to learn he was actually a douchebag, and to go on to date his new girlfriend instead.

After cleaning up the remains of their feast, they debated whether the sequel was worth watching. Weiss maintained that the vast majority of sequels to popular movies never lived up to the originals. However, in the end, Blake's point about the show of female empowerment won out, and they settled in to watch it.

Neither of them noticed when their hands met and linked. Or at least, they both pretended not to.

They didn’t even make it to the first hour mark before they were both asleep, hands still clasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So that was a thing. Slightly longer chapter cause there were a lot of character interactions I wanted to show, particularly Sun’s revelation about Junior's. Guess what the next chapter’s gonna be about :P
> 
> If you’re thinking Weiss is dealing with everything awfully well for someone who’s been recently disowned and made homeless, don’t worry. It gets addressed later.
> 
> Hope y'all are enjoying, either way hit me up with your comments! Feedback is always good! Even if you agree with me that the interactions were a bit rushed :P
> 
> See you next time <3


	4. You Live, You Learn, You Defy The Terms

Mornings were not Yang’s thing on the best of days.

So the morning after getting wasted and taking a lot of crap from her abusive ex was definitely not to the brawler's liking.

Slouching she shuffled her way into the slightly dingy kitchen to find a man gone grey before his time, scruffy with his five o'clock shadow, short bird’s nest hair and whisky breath.

They exchanged nods of sympathy as she walked in.

Neither of them spoke as she retrieved a tin of soup and heated it on the weak electric stove, which took about ten minutes to simply reach a useful temperature.

Seating herself at the small table, she began her recovery from the previous night’s shenanigans. As she slowly worked her way through the soup, the scruffy man spoke in a voice that sounded like it ran every syllable through a cheese grater before it left his vocal chords.

“Rubes told me you ran into Neo last night.”

Yang scowled. “Can you at least wait ‘til I finish my breakfast before you lecture me?”

The man raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t worry yourself, Firecracker. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The brawler’s expression softened, eventually shaping itself into a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Uncle Qrow.”

Qrow smirked. “It's alright. I know you aren't a morning person.”

With that the conversation petered out, Yang focusing on her soup and Qrow on his coffee. _At least it’s just coffee this time._

=x=

As Yang was washing up her bowl, a crimson-haired girl in pink pyjamas emblazoned with cartoon wolves entered the room. Hesitantly she came up behind the brawler and wrapper her arms around the taller woman.

Unfortunately her grip caught a spot on the brawler's left side where her opponent had scored a hit on her ribs the previous night, and she flinched away from the touch.

_Crap, think fast!_

“Hey, Rubes. Watch the ribs, would ya? I slept kinda funny last night.”

_Nailed it. Seriously, that was so smooth. ‘Slept funny’? Really?_

“Oh. Sorry. How you feeling, sis?”

Setting the bowl and sponge down, Yang turned and grinned, ruffling the smaller girl’s hair, to her apparent distaste, judging by the grumbling. “Hey, I’m fine. Anyway, who’s the older one here? Pretty sure I’m supposed to be worrying about you.”

Ruby blushed with embarrassment and looked pleadingly at Qrow, who merely shrugged and pointed out, “She's your big sister. It's her job to be annoying.”

Yang soon let up, however, and went to make herself some coffee. When it was ready, she sat with her uncle and sister, who was tearing into some ridiculously chocolate-stuffed cereal, and nursed the life-giving substance before her.

The domestic scene remained undisturbed for a few minutes before Qrow spoke up. “So what have we all got planned for the day?”

Ruby briefly looked up from her cereal. “I gotta work on my application some more. My sims are still a bit off.”

Yang whistled. “Still don’t really understand why they need it so early in the year.”

The redhead's gaze turned downwards. “Probably because it's so popular. I mean, they don’t want people who can't even get a prompt application in.”

“You know how stuck-up that makes them sound, right?”

Ruby made a face. “Yeah, but they're the biggest, best funded technology institute in all of Remnant. I think they deserve to be.”

“I suppooooose.”

Qrow nodded at the exchange, then turned to Yang. “What about you, Firecracker?”

Yang paused to think. “Was probably gonna hit the gym. Could probably do with some ‘me’ time, y'know?”

The scruffy man nodded. “Well I’ve got the afternoon shift at the bar today, should be pretty good. I’ll be out by eight, how about we all get together then and watch a movie?”

“Sounds fun to me,” Yang agreed.

“Woo, family movie night!” Ruby cheered.

For a moment, Qrow’s customary smirk shifted into a more genuine smile. It lasted for a heartbeat before he resumed his cocky air. “Alright, kids, get outta here. You both have stuff to do,” he reminded them teasingly.

With that, Yang rose and headed to her room.

=x=

After changing into baggy clothes and packing her workout gear, the brawler set out on a leisurely stroll to the gym. The place wasn’t more than half an hour’s walk away, but since she lived in a slightly less-than-reputable side of town, she preferred to change onsite to minimize the number of lecherous looks and creepy catcalls, which she received plenty of under ordinary circumstances.

Unfortunately since it was the middle of the day and she was stone-cold sober, she couldn’t justify beating up the douchebags responsible like she had the previous night.

Once she reached the establishment she simply waved to the receptionist, who knew her by name as a paid member. Wasting no time, she made for the changing rooms and flung off her outfit and changed into her workout clothes – a yellow tank top with a burning black heart on the chest and black compression shorts.

After completing her warm-up stretches she proceeded to push herself through a strict regime of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and crunches, completing several reps in these basic exercises. From there she spend some time on the treadmills with her music cranked to eleven. _Cardio is dull as hell but I guess I gotta._

As she jogged along she happened to catch the eye of the person on the next-but-one treadmill, and upon doing so found it immensely challenging to keep her gaze fixed solely on the person’s eyes.

Said person was a tall, heavily tanned young woman, with long blazing red hair, probably no older than herself. _Mistrali, by the looks of her._ Emerald eyes were framed by a surprisingly soft face. Surprising, considering the rest of her body was toned to perfection, as a quick cursory glance told the brawler. Upon making eye contact, however, she flinched and focused her gaze dead forward, berating herself internally for being caught staring. _She probably gets enough of that already, Yang._

From there she proceeded to weight training, keeping her chosen exercises properly balanced to train all her muscle groups as necessary, and doing her best to let the strain burn away her shame from eyeing up a complete stranger.

Finally, the part she had been waiting for arrived.

Though already quite drained at this point, Yang still had her favourite part of her workout regime to look forward to, as she wrapped her knuckles in protective tape so she didn’t have to expend additional energy focusing on keeping them clenched. Before her was a large punching bag that dangled from the ceiling, awaiting her wrath.

Exhaling steadily, she settled into a powerful rhythm, keeping her punches hard and fast but spacing them out enough so as to allow her to maintain it over a prolonged period of time. As her fists collided with the heavy target again and again her mind dragged her back to the events of the previous night, and yet somehow Yang barely noticed the increased burn in her muscles as her strikes intensified in strength, her fury at a certain ex of hers triggering an increased adrenal response. Her grunts of exertion turned to bestial snarls, and as she lashed out again and again and again she poured out all her anger and hate into this one exercise, as she had done so many times before.

_Screw you. Oh, wait, you wussed out when I tried._

When next she swung she overextended and pulled a muscle in her left arm.

Of course, it was somewhat hard for her not to have when the bag she had been punching had broken loose from its chain and hit the floor. In her red haze, she hadn’t even noticed.

Despite the not-inconsiderable pain in her arm, Yang felt a sense of calm overtake her as she re-mounted the bag. Working through her negative emotions on the bag as opposed to Neo’s face might not completely satisfy the dark urges she felt deep inside, but it was a healthier way of dealing with what happened, as well as actually being legal, and it certainly took the edge off.

After rolling her injured shoulder around a few times the pain abated slightly, enough for her to begin winding down. Once she finished she quickly hit the showers and purged the sweat from her limbs, savouring the searing jets of water for just a little longer than she would at home.

=x=

On her way home, she received a text on her Scroll. Retrieving it she saw another message from her friend Sun.

_heya i know i bailed on you yesterday but i need a favour_

Yang rolled her eyes.

_go on_

A few moments later her Scroll buzzed again.

_friend of a friend got kicked out by her parents and needs a job. could you take her to juniors and get her an interview? id do it myself but I think neps gonna be here for a few days and she really needs that job asap_

The brawler winced in sympathy.

_no prob! just give me her name and number and ill message her_

It didn’t take long for the number to be sent.

_her name is weiss_

_Weiss…_ Yang turned the name over in her head a few times before she replied.

_cool, ill message her tomorrow, got a family movie night tonight :D_

_niiiiiice which movie?_

_idk rubys been dying to watch civil war so probably that_

_good choice good choice_

Before she could reply Sun messaged her again.

_thanks again btw_

_dw about it, girl sounds like she got a rough break_

_yeah no shit im sure shell tell you all about it_

_gotta run now, im nearly home_

_ok cool see ya_

With that their digital exchange came to an end. In reality she was still at least five minutes away from home but her ability to handle people was a bit frayed from the previous night still, and she needed to conserve her energy for the evening to come.

=x=

When she eventually reached her run-down home she paused at the door and inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly. Steeling herself, she entered and made straight for her room. In absence of any attempted ambushes by her younger sister she was able to reach her destination with little difficulty. _Huh. She must be really into her work._ Throwing down her gym bag she collapsed on her bed and groaned at the inevitable soreness she knew was coming the following day.

Once she was done vocalising her displeasure into her blanket she removed her boots and headed down to the living room, flinging herself unceremoniously onto the battered remnant of their couch and pulling out her Scroll. While she waited for her uncle to get back from work she amused herself with various little games, though none could hold her attention for very long.

When Qrow finally returned, she leapt up and caught him in the hallway before he could call Ruby down. They sat in the kitchen, and Yang was sure her ragged uncle picked up on her tension as she spoke. “We need to talk finances.”

“Ugh. What happened?” He groused.

“This asshole went for me after he’d been counted out. I defended myself but…”

“But what?”

“But he might not fight again.” She spat out the words as though their very presence in her mouth disgusted her, like the moment you bite into a cookie only to discover it has raisins instead of chocolate.

Qrow winced. “What did Junior say?”

Yang gritted her teeth. “He says he believes me, but that the crowd didn’t. He gave me a bigger share this time, but I’m on a break for a while.” She tossed the Lien onto the table as she explained.

Running a hand through his grey hair, Qrow cursed, before speaking up and reassuring Yang. “It should be enough for us to manage for about a month, maybe a little more. He should’ve cooled off by then, right?”

Yang shrugged, then shirked away as Qrow rested a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, if you say it was self-defence, I believe you. I know you well enough to know you don’t just hurt people for no reason.”

Muscles remained tense for a moment, before Yang gave in an accepted the offered comfort, leaning into her uncle’s shoulder and holding on to him like a piece of driftwood in the ocean. He wrapped his spindly arms around her and held right back. Somehow, somewhere along the line, his general aroma of cheap whiskey had become quite comforting to the brawler, and she focused on breathing to steady herself. _I am not gonna cry. I am not gonna cry._

_I can’t afford to cry._

Despite life’s strongest efforts to saddle her with as many stressors as possible in a short period of time, she didn’t break. She never let herself break. The frustration, the sadness, the heart-stopping fear, yes, _fear_ she had felt in the past day were all compressed and shoved down, down, down into the darkest chasms of her psyche.

All so she could be the strong one of her family. What was left of it, anyway.

Tensing her throat, she pulled back the tears threatening to burn their way down her cheeks even as she pulled away from Qrow.

“You gonna be alright, Firecracker?”

Yang grimaced. “I’m always alright, Uncle.”

=x=

The movie lasted a few hours, and watching it had put Ruby in the mood for a marathon of the entire series. While Qrow, the closeted nerd, was more than happy to indulge his niece, Yang needed some more downtime. Pleading exhaustion, she hugged her sibling and then absconded to her room.

The next day she woke early but savoured the early morning doze as best she could while in constant pain.

Once her morning daydreams had exceeded their capacity to amuse her she pulled herself from bed, wincing at the protests of her muscles. After a quick breakfast of cereal she focused on her main priority for the day: contacting the mysterious girl who needed a job.

Pulling out her Scroll, she deliberated how best to approach talking to a complete stranger, anxiety rendering her uncertain. It was all for nothing, however, as she eventually just chose the ‘fuck it’ mode of thinking and decided not to bother with anything other than her standard text speak.

_heya weiss!! my names yang, sun said something about you needing an interview with junior asap?_

Barely a minute had passed before she got a reply.

_Yes, to cut a long story short I find myself in need of employment. Sun said you could accompany me to the place in question. Would that be acceptable to you?_

_sure, im free all day today if you wanna go and just get it done :)_

_That would probably be for the best._

_okay, where should i meet you?_

There was a slightly longer pause before the next response.

_Are you familiar with a tattoo parlour by the name of Belladonna Delights?_

_oh yeah, i think ive probably stumbled past it once or twice :P_

_I know the feeling. Would it be alright if you met me there?_

_sure thing! i can be down there in an hour_

_That would be much appreciated. I will see you then._

Not knowing what to say, she left the conversation at that. _Why would she want to meet me at a tattoo parlour, of all places?_ Resolving to learn more about this mysterious girl, Yang threw on her baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie. Checking her map, she found she could make the walk to their meeting location within about twenty minutes.

With the time she had to spare she attempted to tame her voluminous mane of hair, with limited success. With ten minutes left before she had to leave she had gotten most of the tangles out, and had just about lost her patience with the whole exercise. She set down her brush gently, resolutely _not_ giving in to the urge to embed it in the wall, and tied it back into a plain ponytail, which she tucked into her hood. _If I’m going to Junior’s this soon after last time I should probably keep a low profile._

=x=

When she finally arrived at _Belladonna Delights_ she experienced a number of surprises.

Firstly, the music inside the parlour, which had a gothic feel based on the outside decorations, was in fact a rather old pop song.

Secondly, said song was being sung by a young woman with the most entrancing voice that had ever graced Yang’s ears.

Thirdly, the singer in question was far too cute for Yang’s pansexual heart.

“When it’s you, and me, we don’t need, no-one to tell us who to be. We’ll keep turning up the radio…” She chanted, captivating Yang’s gaze.

Unfortunately, the singer noticed the brawler’s attention and the spell shattered.

The short, slight woman turned to Yang and held out a hand. Yang stared at it, bemused for a moment before remembering basic social etiquette when meeting a stranger, as well as her grasp on Valean language in general.

“Yang Xiao Long, I presume?” The singer inquired, refined accent at odds with Yang’s assumption about the kind of girl who would need a job with the owner of a fight club.

“That’s me. And you’re… Weiss?” Yang asked, shaking Weiss’ hand.

The shorter woman nodded, pulling her hand back. “One moment, please.” She quickly went up to a door on the right, cranked it open a touch and called, “Blake, I’m going to the bar now. I’ll see you when I get back!”

“Alright, good luck!” A voice responded, though Yang could not see its owner.

Without further ado Weiss withdrew from the door and made her way out front, leaving a slightly dumbfounded Yang still in the parlour.

_Huh. She really doesn’t mess around._

Shaking herself awake, Yang followed her out and then began leading her to Junior’s.

Throughout the walk, Yang noticed the singer’s near-constant tension, but couldn’t quite find the right way to defuse it. She tried making small talk, and was met with monosyllabic replies. She tried making a few puns, which only got her death glares. _We’ve been walking together for ten minutes and I still hardly know anything about her!_

Frustration mounting, Yang then decided to go for a more direct approach. “So, Weiss. I gotta say, you don’t strike me as the type to need a job at Junior’s, of all places. I’m sensing there’s a story here. Am I right?”

The singer sighed. “You’re nothing if not persistent, aren’t you?”

Yang grinned. “Ya can’t win a fight if you tap out the first time you miss. Gotta keep swingin’.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine. The short version is that my father disowned me two days ago because I don’t like boys. Aside from a relatively small amount of Lien I had been channelling into non-SDC bank accounts in anticipation of such an event, I have nothing to my name except two sets of clothing, a hairbrush and a Scroll. I ran into Blake, the owner of the parlour at a bar that night. We talked and I ended up spending the night at their apartment above the parlour. I’ve been staying there ever since.” She narrowed her eyes before adding, “And no, I didn’t sleep with them. They just put me up out of the kindness of their heart.”

Over the course of Weiss’ speech Yang’s eyebrows steadily rose, all but disappearing into her fringe by the end, until she had to stifle a snort of amusement at the ending. “Huh. Guess I wouldn’t have been the first to assume you had, would I?”

Weiss merely growled wordlessly.

Yang chuckled before letting her expression become a touch more serious. “Bad jokes aside, that’s a rough break. Don’t worry though, you tell Junior everything you just told me and he’ll probably hire you on the spot. I dunno how much Sun told you about him, but he likes to look out for kids in need. You’ll do fine!”

“I certainly hope so. I… dislike having to depend on one person’s good will to have a place to sleep at night.”

The brawler nodded. “Fair enough. But hey, you’ve already started taking steps in the right direction. That’s pretty impressive considering you’re only on, what, day three of living away from home? That says something about you, I think. You’re not gonna let this stop you.”

The former heiress’ frown softened, and the hint of a smile appeared on her pale face. “It’s… not often I hear compliments like that. I… thanks.”

With that, Yang’s features erupted into a broad grin. _She looks so cute with that little smile. Wouldn’t mind seeing it some more._ “Well I mean I could always point out how seriously cute you are, but I imagine a gal like you gets that all the time anyway~”

And just like that the scowl was back.

Though the redness in her cheeks was new.

“Ugh, you’re incorrigible.”

=x=

From the outside, Junior’s club, creatively named _Junior’s_ , was fairly nondescript. It was situated in an old warehouse, and only a red neon sign above the grey double doors advertised it as anything else. Of course, its inconspicuousness was likely due to the fact that they were present in broad daylight, and so the club was not, in fact, open to the public.

Not that it stopped Yang.

Marching confidently up to the doors, she hammered four times with her fist and waited. Within minutes, a tall, coal-skinned man with close-cropped dark green hair barged out, his expression calm but firm. Upon catching sight of the club’s interlocutor, his stance relaxed and his facial features assumed a more friendly state. “Yang.” Rumbling tones like the roll of drums issued forth from his mouth. “You had us worried for a moment there.”

The brawler beamed. “Hey Sage! Long time no see, huh?”

The tall man chuckled. “You were here on Friday, as I recall.”

Easy smile still present, Yang replied. “Yeah, well, I don’t remember seeing you on my way out. Anyways, we’re kinda in a rush here. Is the boss in?”

Sage nodded. “He’s not too busy right now. But if it’s about what happened on Friday…”

_Crap, don’t you dare finish that sentence!_

“Oh, nah, nothing like that! My friend here needs a job, that’s all!” She pointed a thumb behind her in what she hoped was Weiss’ general direction. _Hope she’s okay with me calling her my friend._

_Wait, what? Since when did I worry about things like that?_

Sage turned to the shorter woman and nodded understandingly. “Fair enough. Head on in.”

Without further ado, the two women entered the club. To the left of the entrance was a long bar, which stretched about half the length of the interior. Yang led Weiss straight for the far left edge of it and held up the counter door and let the singer through, just as a person of middling height opened the door just behind it. “Hey, Scarlet!” Yang greeted the person, who, in honour of their name, had a mop of scarlet hair almost concealing one eye, which had intricate black eyeliner surrounding it.

“Oh, hello there Yang,” they answered in a lilting accent that bespoke a wealthy background. “Who’s your friend?”

“Her name’s Weiss. Weiss,” Yang turned to the shorter woman, “this is Scarlet. They’re gonna be one of your co-workers soon, so play nice~”

Weiss nodded at the redhead. _She’s probably just about had her fill of introductions lately, I’ll bet._

Scarlet smiled softly, hoping to ease Weiss’ nerves. “It’s nice to meet you, Weiss. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine around here.”

“Thank you,” Weiss replied quietly.

“Well, much as I’d love to sit here and watch you two struggle to make awkward small talk, we’ve got someone to see! Catch ya later, Scar!”

With that, she took Weiss’ hand _wow she’s soft but so cold_ and tugged her into the room behind the bar.

=x=

Hei Xiong was an intimidating figure to someone unacquainted with him. Standing over six feet tall, with a buzz-cut and well-trimmed beard, he radiated an aura of power, like he emitted some sort of pheromone which screamed ‘don’t fuck with me’.

Which probably explained why Weiss practically froze up when they were introduced.

As she and Yang sat down in front of his desk the brawler hissed, “Chill out, he’s not as scary as he looks.”

Junior, of course, heard every word, and the corners of his lips turned up a hint, humanising him in the heiress’ eyes somewhat. He leaned forward slightly, his large hands clasped above the desk, and addressed Weiss bluntly, though not aggressively so. “Alright, kid. Blondie thinks you need a job here. You should know that this establishment only hires people who actually are desperate for work. So tell me: why do you need a job here?”

Weiss took a deep breath and began, voice steady despite her obvious nerves. “Because despite what I know you’re assuming about my background, I don’t actually have much to my name at this point. My father is the head of a large multi-Kingdom corporation, however as of last Friday I am no longer a part of the family since I refused to marry a business partner of his and produce an heir, since I am not attracted to men.”

The singer steadied herself with a few more deep breaths before continuing. Yang was impressed by her courage – clearly she was nervous and tense, yet she never once flinched, stumbled in her speech or even broke eye contact with Junior.

“On Friday I left home with a single change of clothes and my Scroll. Though I had anticipated something like this happening, it came sooner than I expected, so the funds I channelled out of my SDC bank account into an unaffiliated one were not as substantial as I was hoping. Barely enough to maintain even a small rented property for a few months, actually. I only have a place to stay at night thanks to someone I met in a bar that night.”

At this Junior held up a hand. “Alright, you convinced me. One question first.”

Weiss nodded, inviting him to continue.

“This person you’re staying with isn’t asking for anything weird in exchange for you staying there, are they?”

The singer shook her head. “Nothing like that. They haven’t asked for anything. There was… actually, I _did_ wake up in their bed this morning, but it was for a different reason.”

Junior cocked an eyebrow.

“We had been watching Netflix in their room and we just happened to fall asleep together!”

The bearded man exchanged a glance with the brawler, who spoke up gently. “Alright, if you’re sure,” Yang placated. “Just remember to be careful in getting close to them, okay? It’s not the most…”

Weiss cut her off. “I’m well aware of what constitutes an unhealthy dynamic, thank you. And for your information I have no intention of allowing anything other than friendship to develop between us at this stage. I met them two days ago, for Dust’s sake!” Seeing their worried expressions, she softened her tone slightly. “I do appreciate your concern, Yang. I don’t believe they are attempting to take advantage of me, as I understand that they have been in similar circumstances in the past. However, rest assured that I will not allow myself to be used by anyone ever again, least of all my host.”

Yang nodded. _Ugh, if it were anyone else I’d hold their hand to reassure them but that’s probably the opposite of what she needs right now…_ Without her usual display of affection, Yang simply replied, “I’m glad to hear it. If you do want to start searching around for somewhere else to stay, though, we know places for people like you.”

Junior then continued. “It’s something to think about, anyway. In the meantime I can offer you a job behind the bar at seven Lien an hour. Tuesday and Thursday nights, eight pm to four in the morning. I’ll have someone show you the ropes ‘cause I’m guessing you don’t know much about bartending. If you do good work I’m prepared to offer raises and a spot on the Saturday shift, but I’d rather not put you through that until you’ve got a few nights’ experience.”

Weiss smiled shyly. “Thank you, Mr Xiong,” she offered, holding out her hand.

The man shook her hand, responding, “Junior, please. No need to make me feel old, I get enough of that from the mirror in the morning,” he teased, widening Weiss’ smile a touch.

As the two women stood and made for the door, Junior added, “by the way, in case you didn’t realise, this job is cash-in-hand. So don’t go putting this on your resume, and don’t talk about it too loudly in front of the cops, y’know? See you Tuesday night!”

=x=

On the walk back, Yang noted straight away a distinct decrease in tension in the former heiress, which she remarked upon.

“Well of course I’m less tense now that I actually have a source of income,” the singer replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Which, to be completely fair, it kind of was.

Even so, Yang remained cheery, despite the slightly cutting reply. “Well it’s nice to see you relax a little. Told you there wouldn’t be any problems!”

“Yes, I suppose you did.”

“Wait, did you actually just admit I was right about something?”

“Argh!”

Conversation proceeded in this vein for most of the walk – Yang teasing Weiss, and Weiss getting infuriated. Yet both women sensed there was no real antagonism in the banter.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and as they approached _Belladonna Delights_ Yang felt the truth of the old aphorism stronger than usual.

“Guess this is your stop, then.”

“So it is.”

They waited for a few moments in silence, the wind’s soft whispers loud as thunder to them. While looking down, uncharacteristically shy, Yang started to speak. “So, uh, I dunno about you, but I kinda enjoyed hanging out with you today. Even though it was just so you could talk to Junior and all.”

“No, I enjoyed it too,” Weiss replied, also avoiding her companion’s gaze.

“Maybe we could… I dunno, hang out again sometime?” The brawler offered, hope shining in her lavender eyes.

“I… would like that.”

_Sweet!_

“Awesome! Well you have my Scroll number, so just message me anytime!”

Weiss grinned. “I will certainly keep that in mind. See you soon, I hope.”

_ARGH! I wanna hug her but… nope, take it easy on the affection, Yang._

She couldn’t resist a slight gesture, however. “Heck yes. See ya!” She offered a closed fist to the shorter woman, who rolled her eyes in exasperation before returning the fist bump.

Gratified, she set off home, whistling a jaunty tune.

_Mmm, a day out with a cute girl, just what I needed…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So yeah, another long-ish one. Kinda got away from me a bit, but the main focus of this one was always meant to be around Weiss going to Junior’s. Plus I got to write some of the Freezerburn part of the ship. In case it wasn’t obvious, this is gonna be a pretty slow burn fic, given that Weiss is also dealing with a lot of shit. We will get to the fluff eventually though!
> 
> As always, comments are much appreciated :)
> 
> See y’all next time!


	5. There’s So Much Beauty When Your Eyes…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before you get into this one, just be aware there is a use of the t-slur in this chapter. Be safe, folks.
> 
> Spoiler alert for Vol 4 Ep 2 below, skip the next paragraph of the author’s note to avoid.
> 
> At this point I’d like to point out that this chapter, and indeed a large chunk of this fic in general, was written before episode 2 of the new series. Consequently, Whitley Schnee doesn’t actually exist, as I have already determined the state of the Schnee family for this fic and to attempt to write him in now would require an overhaul of several month’s work which would substantially set back my update schedule. So, yeah, no Whitley in this one.
> 
> This particular chapter was also written before the latest World of Remnant episodes. Since this is an AU I had already made a lot of decisions about what the Kingdoms and civilization in general are like. In particular my depiction of Vacuo is a bit different to what is now canon. Something to keep in mind as you read this one.
> 
> With that, enjoy the chapter :)

Relief enveloped the former heiress like a blanket after she secured the job. As soon as she returned to the parlour she shared the good news with Blake, Sun and Ren. The latter merely nodded and granted her a rare smile, whereas the other two hi-fived her. The rest of the afternoon passed them by without Weiss really noticing, intent as she was on her thoughts about her upcoming first day at an actual job, even an unofficial one.

Employment was not the only thing on her mind, however.

Also featuring heavily in the singer’s thoughts was the blonde bombshell she had spent a large part of the afternoon with. An impressive figure combined with a confident persona hiding a caring interior – despite how irritating the brawler could be at times there was something about her that made Weiss burn with curiosity.

Despite Yang’s best efforts, her composure had not been absolute – Weiss often noticed during bouts of silence that the brawler would lose focus and her cheery exterior slipped for a few moments at a time, revealing someone considerably more vulnerable than Weiss thought Yang would want her to know.

Then there was the other type of curiosity Yang had inspired.

A glowing smile, a boisterous laugh, a razor-sharp tongue.

Part of Weiss wanted to taste them all.

Shaking her head, the former heiress strove to discard her less appropriate interest in Yang for the time being. After all, she still had a difficult conversation to have.

While she was fairly sure Blake harboured no malicious or exploitative intentions towards her, there was still the matter of the previous night that needed addressing before things got out of hand.

Yet when the two retired back to the apartment for the evening, it seemed that she was not the only one who thought a conversation needed to be had.

After a light dinner of pasta in a homemade cheese sauce, the Faunus made it clear they had something to say.

“Weiss… About last night…” Blake began nervously as they seated themselves on the other side of the couch to the singer, leaving a substantial amount of distance between them.

The former heiress remained silent, opting to hear what they had to say before making any snap judgments.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened at the end. It wasn’t appropriate of me to do that and I don’t want to take advantage of your vulnerable situation. So I won’t attempt to get you into my bed again any time soon, okay?”

Weiss nodded. “As a matter of fact, I also had something to say on the subject.” Blake remained tense at this, as though preparing to bolt. “You are right,” Weiss continued, “it wasn’t appropriate. However, in this particular case I don’t think you were taking advantage of me. It seems somewhat obvious that there is a slight level of… mutual interest… between us. However, as you said, I am indeed,” the singer’s breath caught at having to use the word, “vulnerable. Furthermore, I think it is worth remembering that we met a mere two days ago. There is still a lot we don’t know about each other.”

The Faunus nodded in agreement.

The former heiress continued in a softer tone. “I do find your company enjoyable… and I would like to get to know you better. I am happy for us to develop a friendship, however I would appreciate it if you kept your word about not trying to get me into your bed, even for something as relatively innocuous as last night.”

“Of course. I think it’s for the best. It wouldn’t be good for you. And anyway, you’re right, we barely know each other.” Blake paused for a moment. “So, keep things strictly platonic while you’re staying with me?”

“I think that would be wise, yes,” affirmed the former heiress, gracing Blake with a small smile in an attempt to reassure them.

She was met with limited success – Blake seemed to relax a little, though Weiss could tell they were still beating themselves up about it.

“You can stop being mad at yourself now, you know. I do trust that you’ll respect the boundaries we’ve set.”

Blake stood abruptly. “I’m feeling pretty tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed. Let me know if you need anything.” With that they marched off to their room without further comment.

_Did I go too far by picking up on their cues and commenting on them?_

_Ugh, why are relationships so complicated?_

Years of training in the arts of negotiation had left Weiss with observational skills few could match, and it was difficult for her to supress the analysis she performed, it being almost reflexive to her after so long.

Despite her worries about Blake’s apparent self-flagellation, Weiss did feel further relief from the anxiety that had been tingling in the back of her mind since she had woken up with the Faunus curled up against her back, arm around her stomach. While in a way it had been a pleasant manner to wake up in, and she couldn’t deny the pleasure she took from the warm, cozy sensation of being wrapped up in their toned arms, it had set off some alarm bells in her mind.

Contrary to what Yang and Junior had thought, Weiss wasn’t naïve. She knew the signs of unhealthy relationships. She knew what situations to avoid.

It was that knowledge that vindicated her decision to leave home, after all.

Thankfully, they had apparently seen the error of their ways even before being told. While there was still a hint of residual tension in Weiss’ mind, she knew that was to be expected. _Obviously it won’t go away overnight. Hopefully over time it will fade, as they prove worthy of the trust I’m showing._

After going through her nightly ablutions, she settled in on the couch for the night, wrapping the warm blanket around herself like a cocoon. Though a part of her missed the warmth of the Faunus in the other room, she knew in her mind that she had made the right decision for now. Worries assuaged for the present moment, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

=x=

Mondays were Blake’s day off – they didn’t open the parlour at all, allowing them some usually much-needed down time. The two spent the day out in downtown Vale, visiting various stalls established for the Vytal Festival, eating lunch at a Mistrali food stand, and concluding the afternoon with the week’s grocery shopping.

Throughout the day, Weiss started to open up a little more, sharing some stories from her early childhood of times spent with her mother and sister, before the former passed away and the latter joined the military in an attempt to escape the family.

In return the former heiress absorbed little hints about Blake’s past – the commune in Menagerie they were born into, and later raised by when their parents were killed by anti-Faunus hate groups; their long journey hitchhiking to Vale; meeting Ren and buying a small property with what little funds the two had saved in order to live their dream of having a place where they could both practise their craft as they pleased.

What consistently struck Weiss was their resilience – despite a lot of hardships in their twenty years on Remnant, they had always adapted to whatever life had thrown at them. It was something the former heiress admired about them.

When the two got back that evening they had a fine meal of stir-fried chicken and vegetables, served with noodles. _That’s something else I need to learn: how to cook._ They enjoyed their dinner over a few episodes of a TV show about a boy who could manipulate the elements with his mind, this time remaining on the couch rather than Blake’s bed.

The day’s activities had left them both rather exhausted, however, and Blake needed to be up early to open the parlour the following morning, so they turned in relatively early.

The last thing Weiss thought of before she fell asleep was that she had been feeling less and less anxious about being around Blake as the day had gone by. The thought brought a smile to her face.

=x=

Tuesday was a different affair – knowing she had her first shift kept her on edge throughout the day. Rather than spending the morning with Blake and their associates, she instead opted to remain upstairs for the morning, reading the news on her Scroll and fretting about the evening to come.

At three o’clock she considered texting Yang to ask for an escort to the bar.

At four she realised she couldn’t remember the route, and frantically texted the brawler, who replied quickly.

At five she took a long shower and spent a long time drying her voluminous hair.

At six she was dressed and ready to go.

Yang arrived at quarter past seven, once again in fairly nondescript clothes. Just before she left, Blake handed her a spare set of keys, one for the parlour door and one for the actual apartment, so that she could let herself in. Weiss was stunned at the gesture, and with a quick but heartfelt “thank you” she sped off.

Of course, her maelstrom of emotions didn’t settle down in Yang’s presence, either. Though the brawler seemed a touch more subdued she still made a valiant effort at conversation, and before long they were trading playful barbs with no difficulty.

When they arrived at Junior’s Yang took Weiss around to the side entrance, marked for employees only. As they entered the employee break room a woman in a vivid red dress with sharp heels approached her and flung a plain black collared short sleeved shirt and pants at her and gestured towards the changing rooms, which, Weiss observed, had no gender-based separation, just a set of stalls.

After hastily throwing on her new uniform, she stepped out again only to find Yang had already left. She checked her Scroll and found she had left a text.

_hey, sorry for running off so soon but i got a text from my little sister, shes getting really stressed over this project shes working on and needed a hug urgently :( dont worry though, if you talk to scarlet (the one we met on sunday, with the red hair and amazing eyeliner) they can show you the ropes! hope it all goes well x_

Weiss blushed at the little mark at the end of the message, before hurriedly flinging an understanding reply and heading out to the bar to start her shift.

Scarlet turned out to be a very patient mentor, having been in a similar position before. They showed her how to serve draft beer and how to make mixers and the few simple cocktails the club served. Though she was uneasy at first, she quickly picked up the skills and before long she was up and down the bar serving people left, right and centre with little hesitation.

At around midnight another bartender cracked open a can of energy drink, which was passed around to all the bar staff. Weiss nearly spat out the aggressively sweetened beverage, but quickly realised the caffeine would keep her alive for the next four hours, and drank deeply.

Though the rush was rather intense at around one in the morning, as it was only a Tuesday night there weren’t too many people for the staff to handle.

When the last call finally went out at half past four (according to Scarlet this was perfectly normal, but Junior always ensured they got paid for the extra time) Weiss was about ready to collapse. However, she wrenched herself away from the bar over which she was partially slumped and made her way into the break room.

Junior was handing out Lien when she arrived. When he came to her she felt another thrill of nervousness, but the tall man quickly put her at ease. “Scar tells me you did some good work out there, princess.”

With that, she rolled her eyes. “Such originality.”

Junior chuckled. “What can I say, I’m bad with names. But in any case, you did well tonight. Thursday will be a bit busier, but I think you’ll be able to handle it.”

The praise warmed her heart a little. It was heartening to know that she was able to hold her own wherever she found herself in life.

She gratefully accepted the sixty Lien he gave her for the night’s work, already wondering how long she would have to work there before she could get away with asking for a raise.

When it came to getting home, however, _since when did I start thinking of Blake’s place as home?_ she grew nervous again. Walking through a seedy part of town at night didn’t strike her as the best idea. Thankfully, Scarlet offered her a lift in their battered pick-up.

On the ride back, the redhead asked Weiss about why she came to Junior. Once again, she explained her story, giving the short version since she was getting rather sick of talking about it by that point.

Scarlet nodded at her story with the kind of comprehension that comes from similar experience. When she had finished, they began speaking of their own reasons, in their almost musical voice. “When I realised I was nonbinary and was starting to consider transitioning, I knew from the start that my parents wouldn’t understand. These are the kind of people that laugh at ‘tranny’ jokes, who think that people like me are just desperate for attention, that kind of shite. One day I left my Scroll unlocked on my blog, and my mother found it. She went through all my posts about trans rights, and flipped out. Said I was a disgrace to the family name and that she’d raised me to be a ‘real man’. When I responded by pointing out that she would never know me as well as I know myself, she told me she didn’t know me at all. I agreed, and she threw me out. Now I’m staying at a youth hostel, surviving on what Junior pays me, mostly. It’s tough but I manage.”

Weiss listened to this narration and felt her appreciation for the youth go up a few notches. With a common ground established, they spent the rest of the ride bonding over awful parents. The experience was so cathartic for the former heiress, it almost saddened her when they arrived back at Blake’s.

Smiling broadly, she thanked Scarlet for the lift, and quietly let herself into the parlour, only remembering to lock up behind herself as she reached the apartment door. Swearing softly to herself she doubled back and sealed the front door, before letting herself back into the apartment and collapsing on the couch almost immediately.

=x=

At around one in the afternoon she woke up, groggy and a touch sore from being on her feet all evening. As she rose, she saw Blake had left a note detailing the locations of breakfast-related foodstuffs in the kitchen. Weiss smiled at the thoughtful gesture even though it was pointless – when they had put away the groceries they bought on Monday the singer had taken care to memorise where everything had ended up.

After a very late breakfast and a shower, Weiss headed down to the parlour in her casual wear. Sun flicked his tail in greeting as he sat manning the counter, hunched over his sketchbook again. Based on his presence she concluded Blake was busy, and so settled into one of the couches and browsed the internet on her Scroll.

When he had finished his latest drawing, Sun engaged the former heiress with a bit of conversation, asking about her first night at Junior’s. They chatted about their experiences of the place, bemoaning the slightly grubby atmosphere and the one soft drink dispenser that needed to be whacked against the bar every time it was used.

Eventually, conversation shifted and Sun asked, “You got any plans for the weekend, then?”

Before she could answer, a Faunus woman with a serpent tail strode out of Blake’s studio, the artist not far behind. The woman showed off her new ink – a stylised single-colour image of a dragon’s head on her right shoulder. Once again, Weiss was astounded by her host’s skill. So, it seemed, was their client, who strode proudly out of the parlour after paying up.

Once she had left, Sun repeated his question, this time directed at both the singer and his boss.

It was Blake who responded first. “Well, I know _Torchlit_ is having a classic rock night on Friday. I might go to that if you guys are interested?”

“Depends, which bands do they usually play?” Weiss inquired.

“Oh, you know, AC/DC, Motorhead, that kind of thing.”

The singer grinned.

“Is that a yes, then, princess?”

“I believe it is, squire.”

Blake chuckled at the retort. They turned to Sun. “Well, there’s your answer. You in?”

“Hell yes!” He answered enthusiastically. A thought seemed to occur to him then. “We should make a thing out of it. I have a couple friends who might be interested too, and I bet Nora would love it. How about it?”

“Who were you thinking?” Blake asked.

“I think Yang and Scar should be free, and Neptune’s been wanting an excuse to party since he came over. Sage might be down but I think he could be working that night, I’ll text him.”

The cat Faunus narrowed their eyes. “I only know Neptune out of that group.”

“Don’t worry,” Weiss chimed in. “Yang and Scarlet are lovely. You’d get along, I think.” _It would probably help convince them if I could tell them that Scarlet is also nonbinary, but I probably shouldn’t do that without their permission._

Blake shrugged. “Alright, if you say so. Heck, might be nice to get some new faces around. Kinda getting sick of seeing this one every day,” they pointed a thumb at the monkey Faunus, smirking.

Before he could offer an indignant retort, Blake stuck their head around the door to Ren’s studio and asked, “Hey Ren, did you catch all that?”

A vocal response did not come, however Weiss guessed that he nodded since Blake then continued, “You interested?”

Another bout of silence, also presumably filled with a nod.

“Cool. You want to invite Nora too or should I?”

This time he actually spoke. “I will let her know.” A pause, then he added, “I will likely only stay for the predrinking, however.”

“That’s alright, looking forward to it.” With that Blake re-entered the main room and perched themselves on the counter. Lowering their voice slightly, they pointed out, “Ren always says that. And after a shot or five he always changes his mind.”

“Sage is busy,” Sun informed them, looking up from his Scroll, “but Yang and Scarlet are in. Neptune, too.”

A rush of adrenaline shot through the former heiress when she heard the blonde brawler’s name.

_This time, I really need to watch my consumption. Getting drunk around either Yang or Blake could go horribly wrong…_

=x=

Thursday blurred past the former heiress, her second shift being fairly unremarkable. Junior remarked that in another week she might be ready to join the Saturday night crew, which always needed more hands thanks to how packed the place got. Privately, Weiss was surprised that she had as of yet seen no sign of the supposed underground fight club, but then decided she was happier in her ignorance.

Finally, Friday came. For Weiss, it began in the early afternoon, again with no small measure of fatigue. The thought of the coming evening was more than enough to keep her spirits up, however.

_I’ve never done anything like this before. Just… spent time with friends. Merely having them is a novel enough experience._

During the day she spent most of her time getting ready for the night out. Blake offered the use of their make-up supplies, so Weiss applied a slight layer of foundation and a hint of blue eyeliner. Though she intended to go out in her more casual jeans and shirt, she also threw her bolero over the outfit, for when it got colder at night. _Yet another thing I need: more clothes. Preferably some without the family insignia, too._

As usual, she spent a long time working through her snowy locks, ensuring that not a single knot remained before she set up her typical off-centre ponytail. _Ugh, this will never stop being the most – argh – frustrating chore! Why do I even have long hair at this point? It’s not like my father can do anything if I get it cut…_

Filing the thought away for later, Weiss stepped outside, finding Blake waiting on the couch. Tonight they had opted for a black trench coat over another band t-shirt and purple skinny jeans. The singer thanked her lucky stars that the coat would make ‘accidentally’ enjoying the view from behind the Faunus impossible.

Unlike most of the days this week they had foregone their binder. When Weiss asked why Blake had simply said, “Binders make dancing far less fun than it should be.”

_Makes sense, I don’t imagine those things are particularly comfortable._

Since Sun and Ren had already left work to change and shower before the meet up, the two decided to set off then, heading to the very same bar where Weiss and Blake had first met. For as Blake explained, “It might be a dive, but it’s _our_ dive. Besides, the drinks are cheap, and people there know not to mess with me.”

=x=

When they arrived, Nora and Ren were already there and were holding down a large table near the front. Blake raised a hand in greeting and was promptly body-slammed by Nora in something that, in its original intent, was probably meant to be a hug, but which got seriously fucked up somewhere in the planning process.

After picking themselves up off the floor, they returned the hug, and nodded to Ren, who responded in kind.

Without missing a beat, the redhead threw her arms around Weiss as soon as she released Blake, an embrace that the singer hesitantly returned. There was something… strangely satisfying about holding the shorter woman in her arms, and with a jolt she realised it was the first time in years since she had actually hugged someone. She savoured the moment for a few more seconds before letting go. Nora took the hint and stepped back. “Soooooo,” she began, mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Who’s up for some drinks?”

Weiss hesitated. “Wouldn’t it be more polite to wait for the others to arrive first?”

“Pfft, nah,” Nora snorted. “Unless they’re a bunch of sticks-in-the-mud they won’t give a damn.”

“If you say so,” the former heiress replied, allowing herself to be led to the bar. Ren remained behind to hold the table.

As they approached the bar, Weiss internally reviewed her knowledge of drinks, which at present extended to fine wines, tequila slammers, bad whiskey and worse rum. _Something tells me starting on hard liquor won’t lead to a happy ending tonight._

_Or maybe it would…_ She side-eyed Blake before shaking herself. _No, that’s a terrible idea. If I need to have my decision making skills impaired to do something like that, I shouldn’t be doing it at all._

Blake opted for a bottled wild fruit cider, imported from Menagerie. After (consensually) stealing a sip, Weiss elected to join them with one of her own. It was slightly on the pricey side by this place’s standards, but it was well worth it – the former heiress found it rather easy to drink, as the sweetness of the berries nicely masked the taste of the alcohol.

Nora, meanwhile, had apparently been unable to decide between a Vacuan Comfort and coke, or one of the guest ciders on offer, and so had not bothered to choose between them, instead simply purchasing one of each.

Drinks in hand, they congregated at Ren’s table, and chatted amicably while waiting for the others to arrive.

A few minutes after they sat down, Sun strolled in with a tall, skinny man with blue hair and what appeared to be some sort of goggles mounted on his forehead. The two caught Blake’s eye and sauntered up to their table. While Sun greeted the assembled group, the blue-haired man had eyes only for Weiss. “Why hello there, Snow Angel,” he opened, smooth as gossamer.

Weiss merely cocked an eyebrow. “You think I haven’t heard that one before?”

Despite the curveball, the man recovered effectively. “It wouldn’t surprise me. A girl like you probably finds admirers all the time. I know you just got one more when I walked in here.”

The heiress chuckled. “Cute. If I liked boys, I might actually be interested.” Her voice was teasing, yet not insulting – she simply wanted to avoid unwanted solicitation. _Hmm, much better. I think I should just handle people like him myself._

The man simply nodded, then offered, “Fair enough. I’ll roll back the cheesy one-liners.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

_Finally, I can just tell guys to back off._

As the two headed for the bar, Blake leaned in towards the former heiress and muttered, “That’s Neptune. Friend of Sun’s, also a rampaging flirt. Sorry, should probably have warned you.”

Weiss brushed off the apology. “It’s perfectly alright, I think I handled him fairly well.”

“True enough. Glad to hear it.” They retreated back to their original position then to re-join the larger conversation, which at present mainly consisted of Nora recounting a dream involving twenty pancakes, a grenade launcher and an angry bear.

Weiss couldn’t help but chuckle at the shorter woman’s rampant imagination.

About five minutes after Sun and Neptune returned bearing drinks, Yang and Scarlet arrived. As the former strode up in a tank top, jacket, shorts and a skirt that came around the back of her legs, Weiss glanced at the cat Faunus next to her, taking note of their widening eyes and a slight redness in their face, before returning her gaze to the approaching woman. _At least I’m not the only one._

Her observations were confirmed when Blake hissed, “You didn’t tell me she was this hot!”

Weiss merely smirked, keeping her eyes fixed on Yang, who returned the wry grin in kind.

Seized by a moment of daring, she stood up and walked towards the brawler, greeting her and holding out her arms. Yang looked a touch surprised at the offer but more than a touch pleased, as she eagerly wrapped her muscular arms around the smaller woman.

Hugging Yang was… different to hugging Nora. There was still a comforting warmth, the sheer joy of mutually desired proximity, but there was another edge to it. Weiss couldn’t help but feel how thin Yang’s jacket was, and even through two layers, her hands picked up on the unyielding musculature of the brawler’s back. Every point of her body that was in contact with the brawler’s thrummed with energy, and when Yang spoke softly into her ear, she shivered. The boxer’s voice was a touch lower than usual, as she murmured, “Mmm, I didn’t have you pegged as the hugging type.”

“Neither did I, but I’ve been enjoying a lot of new experiences of late. I hope this is to your liking…”

Yang chuckled, a throaty sound that did nothing to lessen the burning in Weiss’ chest. “Hugs are the best. And for someone who hasn’t had much practise, you sure give good ones.”

_There it is again. It’s like she’s going out of her way to flatter me in ways nobody else has before._

They lingered a few more moments, the singer basking in the pleasant mix of affection and attraction, before regretfully disengaging. As Yang introduced herself to the table, Scarlet followed up behind, and Weiss made the same offer to them also, which was softly accepted.

_I could definitely get used to this._

Once the introductions were complete, and the new arrivals had bought their drinks, the eight of them began to dissolve into a series of conversations. Nora and Scarlet quickly bonded over discussions about make-up, the redheaded thunderstorm blown away by the latter’s skill with eyeliner. Neptune complimented Ren on his pink streak which led to them talking about the woes of hair dye on naturally dark hair.

Well, it certainly led to Neptune talking about it at great length, while the quieter man merely offered nods and sounds of affirmation.

The remaining four clustered at one end of the table, chatting about inconsequential happenings, until a lull fell upon them. When it did, Blake took the opportunity to ask Yang something.

“So I hear you’re a fighter.”

“That’s right.”

“What sort of style do you prefer?”

Yang grinned and Sun groaned. “Careful what you wish for,” he warned. “She can go on about fighting styles for days on end if you let her.”

Blake smirked right back, keeping their eyes fixed on Yang as they replied. “Oh, I think I can handle her.”

“Tough talk, there. I like you already.”

“So are you going to answer my question or are you just going to sit there ogling me all night?”

“Valean boxing. Over the past seven years I’ve conditioned my body and mind to allow me to take the kind of punishment that would have most guys curled up a dozen times over. Strong defence, followed up with intense counterattacks. I can floor a guy twice my size with a single punch if it’s in the right place.” Yang leaned back, still grinning cockily.

“Not bad. Of course, that’s only useful if you can actually hit your opponent. I’m probably not as strong as you are, but I bet I’m faster.”

“Easy there, tiger. If you haven’t had professional training…”

“Who says I haven’t?” Blake retorted, mirroring Yang’s aloof stance.

“Alright, what _do_ you know. then?”

A predatory gleam shot through the cat Faunus’ amber eyes. “A man from Vacuo taught me the way of their old Jem’Hadar monks.”

The name meant nothing to Weiss – martial arts from across the world not being a subject in which she was particularly educated – but it certainly had an effect on Yang, who sat bolt upright, jaw descending comically in surprise. “Holy Dust! I thought there wasn’t anyone this far east who could teach that stuff!”

Blake smirked, apparently pleased with the reaction their revelation had elicited. “He was one of the few instructors outside Vacuo. There’s a couple in Mistral, I believe, and rumours suggest a third is somewhere in Atlas.”

At this point Weiss was rather lost, so before Yang could speak she asked, “For those of us that aren’t connoisseurs of martial arts,” she shared a look of solidarity with Sun, “could you please enlighten us as to who or what the ‘Jem’Hadar’ are?”

“The Jem’Hadar were originally a sect of warrior-priests from Vacuo. The Kingdom never specialised in large armies, but preferred to operate through stealth and espionage. In the Great War, the Jem’Hadar were responsible for numerous acts of sabotage and assassination across Remnant,” Blake explained. “A few decades after the War ended the organisation was disbanded. Many of the former members gathered together and founded a formal school based upon the combat skills they learned, naming the art after the original organisation.”

Yang took over at this point. “It’s a brutal set of skills. They say it’s basically impossible to even hit someone with Jem’Hadar training, let alone beat them in a fight. Occasionally, they might let you _think_ you’re about to clock ‘em one, only to end up on the ground with your arm broken in about five different ways.”

“I won’t pretend I’m a master,” Blake hastily added, seeing the awed look on Weiss’ face. “That would take more years than I’ve lived. But I’m more than competent enough to handle myself in most fights.”

_That’s still pretty impressive._

_Also, the prospect of walking home at night with them is suddenly a lot less worrying._

Yang was glowing with enthusiasm. “We should totally spar at some point. I wanna see what you can do! That is,” she quickly continued, “if you’re down for that?”

“Truth be told, I haven’t had to use my skills in a long time. Having a sparring partner might be helpful for me, actually,” Blake conceded.

The brawler punched the air. “Hell yes!”

As the conversation progressed, the subject shifted to other forms of combat, at which point Weiss surprised them all with the fact that she was, in fact, an accomplished fencer. Blake expressed an admiration for the grace and agility the sport required. When Yang questioned them about whether they, too, possessed any training with weapons, the cat Faunus became withdrawn and taciturn all of a sudden.

“I did once know somebody who had some skill with swords, but I…” They trailed off.

Fortunately, Yang did not press the subject. “Sensitive topic, huh? No problem.” She then shifted the subject to the Vytal Festival, and as conversation continued Weiss noted a gradual decrease in her host’s tension. _That was… surprisingly diplomatic._ It seemed Yang did know when to back off, after all. Weiss’ opinion of the blonde brawler continued to rise.

Over the next couple of hours, the patterns of conversation shifted, twisted and turned as people ended up in different seats when returning from buying another drink or a trip to the bathroom, and everyone present enjoyed the good company while gently nursing their drinks. Even Nora didn’t seem too eager to get too drunk too quickly.

Even when Weiss wasn’t directly involved in any one conversation she still basked contentedly in the atmosphere of camaraderie that permeated their little corner of the room.

While the singer and Nora engaged in a spirited discussion over the merits of mixers against cider (Weiss was adamant that anything involving whiskey, rum or vodka was just asking for trouble, Nora agreed but claimed that that was the whole point), Blake checked their Scroll then called down the table, “it’s half past eleven. If we wait any longer, the queue to get in will be ridiculous.”

Upon hearing their announcement, the youths quickly finished their drinks and made to leave. Just as everyone got back onto their feet, slinging on jackets that had come off in the warmth of the bar, Nora yelled out one word. “SHOTS!”

The reactions were mixed, to say the least. Sun and Neptune grinned. Yang hi-fived the shorter girl and exclaimed, “I like the way she thinks!” Ren and Scarlet rolled their eyes. Only Blake showed little to no reaction – apparently this was rather standard.

The group shuffled towards the bar, whereupon a friendly debate about what to get ensued. In the end, Weiss and Blake successfully made the case for a round of tequila slammers.

The bartender scowled but fetched eight shot glasses and eight lemon slices. They all lined up along the bar, even Ren, took turns shaking some salt onto the backs of their hands, and then retrieving their glasses.

“ON THREE!” Nora shouted. “ONE… TWO… THREE!”

Neptune and Scarlet recoiled as they licked their salt, falling behind the rest of the group. Nora, predictably, finished her slammer first, grimacing at the combination. Yang, Blake and Ren were done next, the latter demonstrating a surprising tolerance for the experience. Weiss and Sun finished a half second after, Scarlet recovered a touch faster than Neptune who came dead last.

“Okay, team, not bad for a first try, but we really need to work on our timing!” Nora announced. “Next time we do better, alright?” Without waiting for any kind of acknowledgement, she grabbed Ren’s hand and began pulling him towards the door, calling out, “Come on, losers! We’re going to a mosh pit!”

Weiss and Blake exchanged grins and made to follow. When the group had made its way outside, Nora led them onwards towards _Torchlit_. The former heiress was reassured to find she was still walking with no difficulty, the only sign of her having consumed any alcohol at all in her slightly bolstered confidence.

As they walked on Yang snuck her way to Weiss’ right side and lightly slung an arm around the shorter woman’s shoulders, though she refrained from actually making physical contact until the singer smiled and took the brawler’s wrist and gently pulled it downwards, bringing the arm into full contact.

_Is it entirely wise for me to throw myself into this kind of thing so soon?_

_Well, why not? After all, I’ve waited years for the ability to do this kind of thing openly. Now that there’s nothing stopping me I think I would quite like to just enjoy it._

“Soooo, princess, you ever been out on the town before?” Yang inquired teasingly.

“I’ve spent my whole life being raised by the walking definition of a stick-in-the-mud. Take a guess, genius,” Weiss retorted.

The brawler chuckled, appearing to enjoy the sass. “Well then,” she leaned in towards Weiss’ ear and dropped her voice to a whisper, “I bet we can give you some nice, happy memories tonight.” The singer gasped as Yang’s lips ghosted across the lobe of her ear, a touch so faint she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a caress of the brawler’s breath.

With that, Yang relinquished her grip on the former heiress and sauntered to the front of the group to talk to Nora, leaving Weiss more than a little flustered.

_Oh, so that’s how you want to play, then?_

_Yang Xiao Long, it is_ on _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As of finishing this chapter, this fic is officially the longest I have ever written. And it’s barely started. Also, this is the longest chapter so far.
> 
> As a point of curiosity, the title of every chapter except the first so far has been named for either the name of or a line from songs I like, because it’s 2016 and I am a 20-year-old emo edgelord apparently, and also because chapter names are hard. Props to anyone who gets them. 
> 
> Also, Nora’s choice of drink at the start is inspired by a particularly bad decision of mine. Seriously, folks, I don’t care if it’s a choice between the best two things you’ve ever tasted – if you’re out drinking, don’t get two drinks at once. It’ll fuck you up.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> See you next time!


	6. …Lay Lost In All The City Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Slightly breaking the flow of the usual pattern for POVs here – since this chapter picks up directly where the last one left off I decided to keep this one as Weiss’ perspective for now.
> 
> Given what’s about to happen, I think you may well understand my decision.
> 
> :)
> 
> Also, content warning for lots of discussion of past abuse. Keep safe, folks.

Echoing in her mind, as though from a great distance, Weiss faintly heard Blake asking her something. In an attempt to stop spacing out the singer pinched the bridge of her nose and asked her host to repeat their question.

“I asked you if you were okay. You seem a bit… out of it, after you talked to Yang.”

Because of the conversation they had had on Sunday, one could be forgiven for assuming Blake was motivated by envy to ask such a question.

Yet when Weiss examined them, there was nothing but friendly concern in their eyes, and their body language did not indicate anything untoward in their intentions. Thus, she decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

“I think so. While I’m not completely innocent, if something were to happen, it would be the first time I did so in public. I’m a little nervous,” she admitted, before forging on, “but I don’t think it’s anything I can’t handle. I should point out that I was the first one to initiate physical contact – when she took me to Junior’s I noticed more than one occasion where she was clearly considering doing so, or began attempting to before stopping herself. I think I can trust her to respect my boundaries if I tell her ‘no’.”

Blake nodded. “I’ve got your back, either way.”

The fencer let out a grateful smile. “Thank you. I can’t say I’ve ever had a squire with Jem’Hadar training before,” she joked, eliciting a giggle from the cat Faunus.

“Nothing but the best for Her Royal Highness, after all,” they returned, both of them unable to keep a straight face.

=x=

The group intermingled on the walk to _Torchlit_ , leaving Weiss on the front lines with Nora, and Blake near the back with Yang. The redhead regaled the fencer with stories from various times – nights out, concerts, music festivals and the like. Strangely, Weiss found being around Nora to be a surprising reprieve from the demands of conversation – the shorter woman was more than happy simply to talk about whatever pleased her, without requiring input from her conversational partner if she wasn’t up to it, probably a consequence of being close to someone as reticent as Ren.

While Weiss had been thoroughly enjoying her first night out with friends, the sheer unfamiliarity of the experience combined with a near-overload of endorphins left her feeling a touch exhausted emotionally. Thus, being able to simply listen to the pattern of Nora’s vocals without being expected to contribute gave the former heiress a bit of time to recharge.

It wasn’t much longer before the group ended up at the club. After showing the bouncer their IDs the group moved into a small entrance hall in which they could already hear music blasting at volumes of questionable safety.

Once everyone had paid the entry fee, Nora threw open the double doors and the music’s intensity struck them like a shockwave. Directly ahead of the entryway was a long bar. On their right was a wall with a door leading to the cloakrooms and toilets. To their left the venue stretched out so far that in the dim lighting Weiss could barely make out the DJ’s stage at the end. Within the vast expanse of space were a series of tables and benches, except at the very end of the room, just in front of the stage, which was dominated by a dancefloor.

Weiss didn’t recognise the song playing when they first entered but it seemed enjoyable enough, so when Sun and Scarlet started swaying in time a little she joined them. Their little congregation moved in unison towards the bar. Apparently, _Torchlit_ offered cheap deals for spirit mixers that night, so the fencer opted for a rum and lemonade.

When they emerged from the throng of people surrounding the bar Weiss observed everyone had gone for some sort of mixer, too. _I guess I’m not quite so out of touch after all._

Since nobody recognised the songs playing this early in the night the group settled in on one of the wooden tables, though with all eight of them it was a bit of a squeeze. Weiss ended up pinned between Nora on her right and Yang on her left. Quite literally – she was pressed between the two of them and had no personal space to speak of.

Strangely enough, she found she didn’t mind this situation at all.

Unfortunately, the music made conversing with anybody whose ear you couldn’t easily yell into rather difficult. Given Nora was currently a little preoccupied screaming excitedly at Ren, this left Weiss with but a single option.

One she was all too happy to take.

Yang made the first move. As soon as Weiss turned to face her the brawler leaned in across the fencer’s slim body to speak into her right ear.

“So, what do you think so far, princess?”

Weiss smirked. “I have to say, I’m rather excited. I wonder who’s fault that is…” she flirted, then, bolder than she would ever have dared be while completely sober, she laid a hand on the brawler’s waist as she let her lips brush softly against Yang’s neck.

The result was instantaneous – Weiss didn’t hear so much as _felt_ the gasp that escaped the brawler’s lungs, from their sheer proximity. Yang was close enough that their chests touched, and after the fencer’s little stunt she quickly found Yang had mirrored the position of her hand on the singer’s slim waist, forming a light embrace that was very rapidly becoming _nowhere near enough_ for the former heiress.

“Mmm,” Yang breathed. “I like a girl who can hold her own.”

“I bet you thought I was innocent, didn’t you?” Weiss teased gently.

“Now I’m curious~”

The fencer smiled sharply. “Let’s just say I’m not the only closeted heiress around. Take a guess what happened when we met…”

“Ohh, that’s a lovely image in my mind,” Yang purred, flicking her tongue against the singer’s neck as she made the ‘l’ sound.

Heat seared through Weiss and her muscles tensed reflexively, causing Yang to chuckle at the tightened grip on her ample hips.

_I don’t recall being this… proficient, but I am certainly not complaining._

Things might have progressed further there and then, had the music not shifted into a set of notes rather familiar to everyone at the table – the greatest tunes were beginning.

Yang laughed softly, causing Weiss to shiver again, then pulled back and stood, leaving the fencer flustered and a touch stupefied. When she failed to come back to reality a hand entered her field of vision. She looked up and saw Yang giving her an inviting look. Without further hesitation she took the proffered hand and rose up to meet the brawler.

For another couple of heartbeats they were incredibly close, though it was _definitely not enough anymore_ , but even as Weiss’ gaze flickered to Yang’s full lips, the brawler smirked and stepped back, still holding the fencer’s dainty hand, and began to lead her towards the dancefloor, which was filling up quickly, bodies packed close as people came to shake and sway and rock in time to age-old songs of love, lust, and good times.

In motion Yang was a wonder. Like her personality, her dancing was bold and sensual – she knew what she had and seemed to delight in showing it off. Weiss had eyes for nobody else in those moments. The brawler still hadn’t released her hand, and a mischievous twinkle in her eye was all the warning Weiss had before Yang raised up their joined arms and twirled Weiss around.

She adapted quickly, settling into the motion like she’d practiced it a thousand times. As she came out of the revolution, she used her momentum to tug on Yang’s arm, bringing the taller woman flushed against her once more. She relinquished her grip on her calloused hand and settled in with one hand on Yang’s shoulder, the other back on her waist.

Their proximity meant that Weiss felt every move the brawler made. Every turn of the hips pressed against her own, and she matched her move for move. Every part of her in contact with Yang’s body burned. Burned like the sun, yet also like ice – shivers permeated her body and she couldn’t tell if they were hers or Yang’s and she never wanted to find out.

The embrace naturally tightened as they both wrapped themselves closely around one another, bringing their faces closer and closer with each passing second, with each note of the guitar, with each beat of the drums, with each beat of their hearts.

Naked, unrestrained need burned in Yang’s eyes. _Perfect._ As the brawler closed her eyes and leaned in to close the distance, Weiss took the hand resting on her shoulder and raised it up, copying the motion Yang made earlier.

Rather than letting her make a full turn, however, when the brawler had her back to Weiss, the fencer lowered her hand to Yang’s stomach _Dust, those abs_ and pulled her in, pressing the taller woman’s back against her. Immediately the blonde responded by reaching up and tugging her hair out from between them and draping it over her right shoulder. _She’s playing right into my hands. I’ll show her how to really tease._

Part of Weiss found the whole situation rather surreal – though she was not totally inexperienced, making such bold advances was unusual for her.

Then again, everything about this whole night was unusual to her. _This is a night to celebrate my new life, and all the freedoms I have found._

Weiss held the brawler close and leaned into her neck. Though this position was rather frustrating for her thanks to the motions of Yang’s rear against her front, which was _very_ distracting indeed, she also had perfect access to a sensitive point.

Without further ado she began trailing a line of kisses along the brawler’s collarbone, smirking as the taller woman shuddered. At first she kept them light, merely grazing the skin she found. But as she progressed onto Yang’s neck she lingered a little longer, occasionally tasting the brawler’s salty skin with her tongue or lightly dragging her teeth against the sensitive flesh. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but judging by the way Yang gripped the arm holding her in place and leaned her head to the side to grant greater access, it was definitely having an effect.

The trail of kisses found its way to the edge of Yang’s jaw. Using the arm around the brawler’s stomach, Weiss gently turned her around as the trail travelled along Yang’s jawline. The last kiss she gave grazed the corner of Yang’s mouth and when they faced each other again, and Weiss once again received an intense gaze for her efforts, she simply grinned, confident that Yang wouldn’t be able to resist closing the distance.

She wasn't wrong.

A hand found its way to the back of Weiss’ neck and pulled her in. Yang was almost aggressive in the way she caught the singer’s lips and savoured them, nipping slightly at Weiss’ lower lip in revenge.

Weiss gasped, and Yang used the opportunity this presented to slip her tongue into the shorter woman’s mouth. Holding back a moan, Weiss retaliated in kind, and they danced a fierce dance together even as they continued to sway to the music.

They continued in this desperate embrace throughout the rest of the song, each delighting in the other’s taste and neither letting up for an instant. As the song came to an end, however, a new, unfamiliar tune started up.

Just like that, the spell was broken.

Pulling back, Yang offered a strange half-smile that seemed to be unable to decide if it wanted to be a smirk or a friendly grin and ended up stuck somewhere in the middle.

Finally regaining awareness of her surroundings, Weiss quickly noted the group seemed to be migrating away from the floor – Sun leaned in towards Scarlet and yelled something, to which they shrugged in response. The fencer let herself be led back to the benches by the group, this time sat with Ren and Scarlet, Yang having made for the bathrooms. Nobody seemed in any hurry to get any more drinks, however. _As for myself, I probably shouldn’t have any more or I’ll be running the risk of making a terrible mistake._

Of course, the night was hardly finished surprising Weiss, as the instant she turned towards the raven-haired man to her right she beheld him being straddled by none other than his erstwhile redheaded friend, and apparently, lover.

_Well. It seems I’m not the only one who’s in that mood tonight._

Unlike her earlier encounter with Yang, however, what the fencer saw before politely averting her gaze seemed much more tender – Nora leaned in and brushed Ren’s lips softly a few times, smiling as she did so.

Blake caught her eyes and rolled their own. Weiss raised an eyebrow and in response Blake leaned in and shouted, “They always do this!”

“I thought you said you didn’t know what was going on with them?” Weiss replied at the top of her voice.

Before the cat Faunus could reply, the fencer felt someone tap her shoulder.

It was Yang.

The brawler leaned in close, yet her demeanour was rather different to earlier. She seemed almost… nervous?

“Can we talk for a sec? Outside?”

_Now I understand why everybody hates that phrase so much._

Fear sunk its icy claws into her chest, but she denied it control of her will. She gave her assent and followed the brawler outside. Her ears rang slightly in the comparative quiet of the street.

They walked a little further down the road, away from the patrons clustered outside the entrance having a quick smoke before diving back in to the madness of the club.

It wasn’t far before Yang stopped and turned. Again, she seemed uncharacteristically shy, posture attempting to minimize the space she occupied.

“What’s wrong?” Weiss asked, letting her concern suffuse her voice.

“At the moment, nothing. But…” Yang trailed off, seeming unable to find the right words.

The singer thought about reaching out and laying a comforting hand on the brawler’s shoulder. She also thought about attempting to pre-empt what Yang was trying to say, as she was fairly sure she could guess what it was.

She did none of those things, however. Yang hadn’t pushed her for affection or confidence and Weiss was not about to damage whatever it is that was developing between them by being anything less than completely respectful.

So all she said when the brawler floundered was, “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Yang let out a tentative grin at that. “Thanks. It’s usually not me that says this but… You aren’t… expecting too much out of this, right?”

The terror tightened its grip on Weiss’ chest. _Don’t. Wait until she clarifies._

“That could be interpreted in more than one way. What exactly is it you mean?”

Yang chewed on her lip. “I mean. Uh. Well. I know you said you’ve had experience…”

The panic eased off a little as soon as the fencer heard this – she knew then exactly what Yang feared and moved swiftly to allay it. “I’m not expecting to sleep with you tonight, if that’s your concern. I think perhaps the vagueness of my earlier… claims… has given you a false impression of what I’ve done. When I told you about my experiences, I meant only that I had been kissed before. Nothing more.”

The effect of this proclamation was fairly quick – the brawler visibly began to relax, tension slowly bleeding out of her posture. “Ohhhhh, right.” She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I guess I just…”

Weiss waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about it – I _definitely_ enjoyed what we did, it was just afterwards, when I thought you might want more. That’s when I started to panic a little.”

“Fair enough.”

Yang frowned, a state of affairs Weiss was not happy with. _Happiness looks a lot better on her than anything else. Wait, she’s trying to tell me something. Focus!_

“…I guess you’re wondering why someone like me freaks out at the thought of sex, am I right?”

Weiss shook her head. “It’s nothing to worry about.” She contemplated the wisdom of sharing her next thought, then went ahead anyway. “To be honest, I knew from the start that you aren’t as confident as you want people to think.”

The brawler’s eyes widened. “Damn. Am I that obvious?”

“No, I’m just exceptional.”

Yang snorted. “Modest, too.”

“No point in denying it. I know how to read people. Just one of the perks of being born to a CEO.”

“I’d still like to explain, if you wanna hear.”

Weiss cocked her head in thought. “If you’re sure you want to tell me. But don’t feel you have to. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

Yang shook her head emphatically. “It’s not that. I’m fairly sure you won’t push me, even if you were a bit more affectionate tonight than I was expecting. I just… want you to know. For reasons.”

“Very well then. Tell me as much as you want.”

Yang took a deep breath, then began a narration.

“So a few months back I met this girl. She has really cool hair and an amazing sense of style. We got to talking, and before you know it we’ve arranged to meet up some time so she can start teaching me ASL. She’s mute,” Yang added, seeing the confused expression on the fencer’s face. “Anyways, we kept hanging out, meeting up for lessons, nothing formal or anything – it was just a reason to hang out. Plus, I kinda wanted to learn. Figure it’s a good skill to have, right?”

Weiss nodded. _There it is again. Thoughtful and conscious of others. She does place a lot of value on helping others…_

“So then one time, she signed something at me I didn’t recognise. I looked it up in the dictionary she gave me, one gesture at a time.” The brawler paused to breathe. “She was asking if she could kiss me.”

_I think I know where this is going._

“I was so shocked, but I kinda had a thing for her too, so I said yes. Not long after that we started dating. The first month was pretty amazing. After that…” Her façade of confidence slipped, and Weiss saw anguish shining in those lavender eyes. No, it wasn’t anguish that shone, it was tears. Yang was barely holding them back and every nerve in Weiss’ body yearned to take her hand, hug her, do _something_ because this sweet, caring person was _hurting_ and it was just so profoundly _not right_ but she didn’t know how to help.

_Dust, is everything always this intense?_

When Yang failed to pick up her narration after a minute, Weiss softly said, “It’s okay if you want to stop now. I think I can gather what happened.”

The brawler clenched her fists. “No. I won’t hide from it. I’ll face it.” The tension had returned and it was obvious Yang was struggling internally. When next she spoke, it was like the words had been caught in her throat and had to be forcibly expelled from her lungs, like a blockage that was slowly suffocating her. “We’d taken shirts off before, but nothing else. One night, thought, she went for the button of my pants. I grabbed her hands and told her no. I wasn’t _ready_. On the bright side, she’s tiny. Like, shorter than Nora. So she couldn’t physically force me into anything. But she knew how to mess with my head. She’d tell me she didn’t understand – if I loved her why couldn’t I do this for her? She called me a coward, called me weak, stuff like that. She left before I could say anything.”

Weiss covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, Yang, I’m so sorry.”

“Not finished. It gets worse. She messaged me a few days later, apologising and begging me to forgive her. She said she knew she’d fucked up, and that she’d wait as long as she had to for me to be ready.” Her face was as stone as she spat, “Like an idiot, I believed her. Rinse and repeat for a few months, until I broke things off for good when I realised exactly what she was doing to me. She tried the apologetic act for about a week solid, just message after message after stupid _fucking message_.”

“Did she ever leave you alone?”

“Oh, she got the hint about the time I made it impossible for her to contact me. Blocked her on all the social networks we shared, blocked her number, even told her I’d get a restraining order if she came to mine uninvited again.”

_Sometimes I really hate being right._

“I understand. And it sounds like this wasn’t too long ago.”

Yang nodded. “Best part is I saw her a week ago. Thought I was starting to move on but it kinda knocked me back to square one.”

Weiss nodded. “I understand. I suspect I’d respond the same if I saw my father any time soon.”

Their eyes met and both women saw compassion, understanding. Then Yang smiled, and it was not like her usual slightly cocky grin. It was bittersweet as a final breath – beauty and love tinged with pain. Yet it was a truer smile than any she’d shown before.

Neither woman wanted to break the moment, yet they felt drawn towards each other. Not like they had before, not in the frenzy of lust and desire that enveloped them in the heat of the moment. No, this was not a physical urge, but an emotional one. Weiss didn’t need to ask if Yang had ever shared this much – from how much she had struggled with talking about it the former heiress knew it wasn’t exactly something she did on a regular basis. She just wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but had no idea how to go about doing that. Physical affection was too risky, and words are limited and forgettable, rare in their ability to provide any real measure of solace to the hurting.

Yet Yang seemed to be moving closer. Or was it the other way around…? She sent a questioning gaze the brawler’s way and held out her arms. With barely a moment’s hesitation Yang surged forward and wrapped herself tightly around the shorter woman. _Wait a second. I have no idea how to actually do this._ Weiss patted the brawler’s back awkwardly, in absence of any better idea. After a few seconds and a few deep breaths Yang let go.

“So, uh, yeah. That’s why I’m probably not gonna do anything further than kissing any time soon. Like, I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to. So if that’s gonna be a problem…”

“No. Not at all. Like I said, it isn’t something I’ve ever done either, and it’s something I’m almost certainly not ready for. But regardless of how I feel about it, I won’t push you into doing something you don’t want to.”

“…I appreciate you saying that. I really do.”

They stood awkwardly facing each other, not really knowing what to say after such a weighty conversation.

They were saved the difficulty of finding another topic by none other than a certain feline Faunus, who tentatively approached. “Are you guys alright?” They asked.

“Sort of,” Yang replied, mask slipping back into place. “Had some stuff to talk about, got a bit dark.”

Blake nodded. “Fair enough. We didn’t know what was going on, so I thought I’d come check in on you. I’ll leave you to your talk. I hope you’re both okay.”

They turned away before Weiss caught their wrist. “No need, I think we were just about done?” She phrased it as a question directed at Yang.

“Yeah, think that’s about enough for one day. Don’t know about you guys but I feel like dancing and not thinking about stuff for a bit. Shall we?”

The Faunus grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“I quite agree,” Weiss chimed in, exaggerating her imperious accent slightly.

Her masterful plan succeeded when her companions both chuckled at her announcement.

Together, the three walked back towards the blaring noise of the club, and immersed themselves once more in the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was meant to go completely differently to how it turned out – it got dark really fast without me realising. Hope you enjoyed, and as always, comments are more than welcome :)
> 
> Also, anyone remember when I said this would be a slow burn? Ha, yeah… 
> 
> See you next time!


	7. In The End I Feel Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Content warning for more reference to past emotional abuse. It’s the big section in italics so skip over that if you want to avoid. Be safe, people.

Hours passed in a blur. Spirits flowed like water, classic after classic resonated through her heart, and joy pulsed through her with every pulse of bass. Yang allowed herself to lose herself utterly in the moment, becoming a receptacle for the world around her.

When at last the DJ, a ginger man in a white suit and bowler hat, announced the night was over, and bade everyone a good night, the group stumbled out in various states of inebriation, except for Scarlet and Nora, who had already left for the latter’s apartment after certain shenanigans on the dancefloor.

Sun and Neptune were only mildly tipsy by the end of the night, and so they made for the former’s house. The remaining four ended up clumsily meandering in the general direction of _Belladonna Delights_.

By this point, Blake was the most sober, having decided to go easy, though Yang couldn’t for the life of her remember why.

Nor could she remember why Ren was clinging to the Faunus’ arm. But whatever.

When they finally reached the parlour Blake offered Yang a place on the couch.

“Waiiiit a sec. Isn’t the princess on the couch?”

Weiss mock-glared at the epithet.

“You’ll see what I mean.”

Yang remembered vaguely hoping the walls of the building were fairly thick, since both she and Weiss were having trouble avoiding said walls. Blake would’ve helped but they were having enough trouble shepherding Ren, who was somehow more inebriated than all of them.

Shuffling uneasily into the apartment, Yang saw the L-shaped couch and without further prompting fell flat onto one length of it.

For once, she was asleep almost the second she landed.

=x=

_Kaleidoscopic images whirl around her, the only lights in an otherwise endless void._

_“Screw you. Oh, wait, you wussed out when I tried.”_

_In her dreams she always hears her words, though the voice they are spoken with is a distorted corruption of her own._

_“I’m really trying to be patient here. Why can’t you acknowledge the sacrifices I’m making for you?”_

_“Why can’t you understand? Are my needs not important to you?”_

_“Am I not good enough for you? Is that it? I should’ve known.”_

_“You never loved me, did you?”_

_“Then why can’t you give me this?”_

_She is drowning. The lights are filling her lungs. She gasps and there is a tongue in her mouth that is not her own but it isn’t hers either._

_It moves with need but when it leaves her lips are caught more softly, almost tenderly. When it tries to regain access she clamps her lips shut and it recedes without reproach._

_The lips come to hers no more. Instead, a cold hand rests on her cheek. Not a cold that burns, like frostbite that slowly wears away. Cold like a pillow that hasn’t been laid on. Cold like a crisp winter’s morning that jolts you awake._

_Cold that relieves the burning, the terrible burning._

_Not a cold that hurts._

_She smiles._

_Until the cold is snatched away and the eyes that stare at her are not ice on a summer’s day, but pink and brown and pitiless._

_The hand is on her throat and it is not cold. It burns and her skin is blistering and she cannot scream because that would require her to breathe and she cannot._

_She cannot breathe._

_She caNNOT BREATHE._

_THE LIGHTS ARE IN HER LUNGS THE HAND IS ON HER THROAT SHE CAN NOT BREATHE SHE CAN NOT BREATHE_

=x=

Bolting upright, Yang yelled wordlessly before wincing at the jolt of pain that flared through her skull, reverberating throughout the interior like an echo in a cavern. _Nightmare and a hangover. Great. Today is going well._

One hand cradling her head like that would actually help at all _it didn’t do much of anything really_ , she examined the unfamiliar room she found herself in. She was lying on one end of an L-shaped couch. On the other side of the room Weiss and Blake were nursing cups of coffee. Or rather, they had been until Yang awoke. Now they were gazing at her with concern and in Blake’s case a hint of fear.

Dropping her gaze, she merely mumbled, “Yeah, I’m not a morning person.”

Eyebrows almost lost in their fringe, Blake answered. “No shit. Do I want to know?”

The brawler shook her head, then groaned at the pain the movement triggered. “I knew I’d regret that fifth shot. It’s always the damn fifth.”

Weiss looked puzzled. “Five seems an oddly specific number of shots to regret. And you had more drinks than just those five-”

“Princess, you’re a great kisser and all, but please. Lecture me when my head doesn’t feel like the punching bag of the world’s angriest gorilla.”

The fencer clamped her jaw shut and blushed slightly. “Right. Sorry.”

Yang waved a hand dismissively.

“So do you need anything?” Blake asked.

“Soup.”

The Faunus sounded puzzled. “Did you say-”

“Soup. You got any?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Need food. Can’t hold anything else down.”

“Soup it is. Nothing chunky, I’m guessing?”

Yang nodded, then slowly eased herself back down onto the couch.

After a few minutes, Blake brought over a steaming bowl and a spoon. Yang thanked them and promptly dived into the thin liquid, wincing when she took the initial sip. _One day I’ll remember that freshly heated soup kinda burns a bit._

Weiss and Blake seemed content to return to their coffee. Yang felt a twinge of guilt for presumably interrupting their conversation, amplified by her coarse attitude and her inability to show gratitude for Blake’s hospitality.

When she had summarily demolished her breakfast she forced herself to her feet and made for the sink. Blake met them there and tried to take the empty bowl from her but she clung to it. The Faunus gave up after a moment, too tired for the shenanigans.

Yang washed up the bowl and spoon, then noticed a pair of plates on the table as well as a freshly-used frying pan, so she cleaned those too.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” she rasped. “And sorry for being grumpy. I don’t really do mornings.”

Blake shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t have to do that,” they added, gesturing at the cleaned crockery.

“Least I could do. I’ll get out of your hair.” With that she made for the door.

Before she got there she stumbled, and with unnatural speed Blake was there and their hands caught her wrists and steadied her before anything hilariously unfortunate could happen.

“Yeah, you’ve got some shit to sleep off, there. Stay if you want. That couch isn’t going anywhere any time soon.” They released her wrists and stepped back. “Or go. Don’t mind either way.”

Caught for a moment with indecision, Yang eventually opted to collapse back into the soft surface she slept on earlier.

=x=

When she had regained some semblance of cognitive ability she sat back up. Mentally she attempted to recall the events of the night before, realising quickly that there was a distinct absence that she couldn’t account for.

“Where’s tall, dark and silent? Wasn’t he with us?”

Blake grinned and gestured at their bedroom door. “Still sleeping it off. He’ll be out of commission today. Ren rarely gets actually drunk but when he does he needs a lot of time to recover.”

Yang frowned. “But why was he in your room?”

The Faunus shrugged. “We share sometimes. I’ve known him for long enough and he’s actually pretty cuddly once he’s comfortable with you. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“Huh. Nice.”

They resumed their quiet attendance to their coffee while Yang focused on forcing herself to wake up properly. However the more lucid she became, the less comfortable she felt. After the nightmare she was still quite rattled, and this place wasn’t known to her, wasn’t _safe_. She needed familiarity, and right now there was none here.

Therefore, she pulled herself to her feet, mumbled her way through an apology, some thanks and an excuse before bolting.

There was a rather awkward moment when she got to the main parlour door and found it locked, forcing her to wait for Blake to come down, wordlessly unlock it, then step back to let her go.

This time, she didn’t look back.

=x=

By the time she made it home she had worked off a bit of the panic. A few hours and another displaced punching bag later and she was nearly back to normal. At that point she texted Weiss, asking her to once again convey her gratitude and apologies to the feline Faunus.

Within moments, her Scroll pinged with the reply.

_I showed Blake your message and they said you can stop worrying. I know that might not necessarily help, but I hope you can. I also hope you’re feeling better. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help._

Yang smiled at the last sentence.

_Oh, also Blake and I are going for a walk around town to see some more of the markets they’ve opened for the Vytal Festival on Monday. You are more than welcome to join us. Let me know if you want to come :)_

_Wow, I wonder how much she cringed when she typed out an actual emoji?_

Still, the thought of seeing them both again buoyed her spirits, especially since it helped dispel her fears that she had ruined her standing with them by being so short with them earlier.

_Really do need to work on that morning face._

=x=

On Monday morning Yang was up with the early summer dawn, too excited to doze. She slept lightly enough that the rising of the sun woke her normally anyway, and despite her lingering anxiety and general emotional messiness she was genuinely looking forward to spending more time with the monochromatic duo.

Blake’s aura of mystery intrigued the hell out of her. They always seemed so calm and controlled, and their past had to be an interesting one if they had been trained by a Jem’Hadar. It didn’t hurt that they were also rather cute – although for the most part Yang’s attention had been focused on somebody else in _Torchlit_ , she hadn’t failed to notice how the feline Faunus had looked when they handed in their coat to the cloakrooms, removing the visual barrier between Yang and their legs, bound up in those purple jeans that didn’t really leave all that much to the imagination.

And then there was Weiss…

While she couldn’t deny she had been somewhat enamoured with the former heiress from the start, she was still surprised at how quickly things had progressed, both physically and emotionally. She had never spoken at such length about Neo before, and even though for the most part she kept her tears from pouring it had still been a very trying experience.

The chaotic mix of affection, desire and anxiety that filled her mind when she thought about the fencer was almost overwhelming. _At least nothing else happened after we talked. Maybe she really is different._

She definitely needed to take things slower in future, though. She might have gotten a _little_ ahead of herself.

_I don’t think I regret what happened, but I need time before I can deal with anything more._

Setting her thoughts aside for the moment, she went about preparing for the day, showering and conditioning her hair with the stuff she saved for special occasions _just in case_ , throwing together her usual outfit, wrestling with her mane like it was a rampaging bear, and finally applying a hint of make-up. A faint layer of foundation, and some sparkly gold eyeliner.

Finally satisfied with her reflection, she checked her Scroll to remind herself of the meeting time. Since it was basically on her way into downtown Vale anyway, Yang had agreed to meet the monochromatic pair outside the parlour.

When the time came she set out, and for once her joyful expression and cheery whistle were genuine.

=x=

After greeting the duo with hugs and blushing at the two-pronged assault of flattery on her appearance she received for her troubles, the three of them strode leisurely into downtown. As they came closer and closer to the heart of the city the density of garish, colourful decorations garbing the buildings increased until they reached one of the central parks, Spring Meadow, which filled the centre of town. It had been almost completely dominated by the Vytal Festival, with stalls filling the green expanse, separated only by a handful of large stages, from which blared music from performers across all four Kingdoms.

The trio dove into the market eagerly, marvelling at the wares before them. They visited craftspeople from across the world, examining bags, cloaks, jackets, painting and sculptures, necklaces forged from Vacuan gold and set with rubies and emeralds, embroidered leather bracelets sold by an old Mistrali woman, and so much more besides.

Throughout the entire market the scents of the food court pervaded and dominated – spring onion, ginger and anise of Mistral; the intense fragrance of cumin, turmeric, and saffron that marked out Vacuan cuisine; basil and thyme, oregano and marjoram of Vale; and the rich, heavy aromas of honey-soaked meats and juniper berries that hailed from Atlas; all blending into a discordant yet strangely pleasant mesh of smells which unconsciously reminded those present of just how far all had come to celebrate their unity as a global community.

The sheer, mind-numbing _uniqueness_ of everything they found, of all the different wares and foods and sounds and stories from every place in Remnant was breath-taking.

They stopped for lunch at a stall selling one of the many varieties of Vacuan cuisine – a curry vendor – and playfully discussed who had the greatest spice tolerance, prompted by a teasing remark from Yang. Weiss, having sampled dishes from across the world already, thought she could handle the most.

“I strongly suspect I have had more experience with such foods than either of you. Remember I was expected to eat whatever was served to me with poise and grace, lest my reactions be construed as a slight on a potential business partner.”

“But did you spend years training under a Vacuan monk who found anything other than his native cuisine to be bland and uninteresting?” Blake retorted teasingly.

“Pfft, have either of you ever done a shot of tabasco sauce mixed with powdered ghost chillies?” Yang snorted.

Twin expressions of horror gazed back at her.

_Oh my DUST, the looks on their faces!_

After a moment of undignified gaping, Weiss regained her composure. “Why in the world would you…?” She demanded, unable to even articulate how utterly stupid she clearly thought the decision was.

Yang shrugged. “Game of truth or dare. That was probably one of the tamest dares we had, too.” She paused, then offhandedly added, “Also the night I found out I liked girls as well as boys.”

Blake raised their eyebrows. “That sounds like a story.”

The brawler grinned. “Sure was. But it’ll have to wait until we get some food ‘cause,” at that point her stomach let out a perfectly-timed rumble, causing the Faunus to chuckle and the fencer to roll her eyes, “I’m kinda hungry. Plus, we still have a score to settle.”

Nobody seemed willing to back down from their boasts, so they marched up to the counter, expressions of determination armouring their faces, and demanded three bowls of the hottest curry the man had. When Yang handed over a wad of Lien in payment the other two reached for their pockets. _Oh hell no._ “Guys, I got this. Don’t worry about it.”

When they both protested she reached out and laid a silencing finger on both of their lips. _Shit. I did not think this through._ Trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest as she took in the softness beneath each finger, she spoke. “I want to treat you both. My way of saying thanks for not completely flipping out on me when I was hungover.”

She let fall her hands, and saw Weiss turn away, clearly flustered. This didn’t surprise her.

What did surprise her was how Blake’s lips were parted ever so slightly after she removed her finger. _Huh. Didn’t that I could affect them so easily. I’ll remember that._

She considered making a flirtatious comment but held back. _Slow down. We aren’t supposed to be rushing into anything, remember? Besides, don’t wanna make things more difficult for them, considering the whole ‘living together’ thing._

So she said nothing, and after a moment of awkwardness Blake thanked Yang for buying lunch, and the tension passed, and was forgotten, for now.

There were a few stools at the makeshift counter in front of the curry stand which they promptly occupied, falling easily back into chatter and banter. When the food eventually arrived the owner also gave them each a cup of milk, before shrugging and leaving the whole bottle. Blake reached into their wallet but he forestalled their offer, merely stating, “You’re gonna need it.”

Before they could thank him, the owner began taking another person’s order. Yang noticed long flaming locks and bronzed skin, and quickly looked away. _Crap, it’s that girl I stared at in the gym!_

Turning her attention towards her meal, she grabbed her fork and made ready to dive in. Before she could, however, Blake intercepted her. “Wait. If we’re gonna do this, we need to decide what the terms of the competition are.”

Yang smirked. “Losers each buy a round next time we go out?”

The others nodded. “Agreed,” they replied in unison, before blushing and staring at their meals.

_Don’t make a smart-assed comment. Don’t make a smart-assed comment. Don’t make a smart-assed comment._

“How do we define who wins?” Weiss inquired.

“First to finish?” Yang suggested.

The owner, apparently overhearing, decided to butt in. “Nobody who isn’t from Vacuo has managed to finish a bowl of that stuff yet.”

Blake frowned. “Just what is in this?”

The owner smiled. “Trust me, you’re better off not asking.”

They swallowed and clenched their jaw. “Alright. Whoever eats the most, wins.”

The women nodded. “Deal,” Yang said, and dived in before anticipation could paralyse her.

In her peripherals Yang observed the other two do the same.

The first few mouthfuls weren’t so bad – in fact, the taste was rather enjoyable.

She knew from experience it wouldn’t stay that way, however, so she shovelled the substance down with hefty helpings of the rice it came with, hoping to get as much in as possible before the pain could immobilise her.

Within half a minute she had gotten about a quarter of the bowl’s contents down, and it felt like she was eating powdered Burn Dust. Every nerve in her mouth and throat screamed in protest, the fiery food searing its way through her system.

She paused to quaff heartily from her milk and quickly side-eyed her competitors. The feline Faunus appeared to be struggling – their face was red and tears were forming in their amber eyes – but Weiss seemed unaffected. She simply worked her way methodically through the meal as though it was the blandest thing she had ever tasted.

_Damn, she really wasn’t kidding._

Yang pushed herself onwards and forced down several more mouthfuls of the stuff before she had to give. Just under a quarter of the meal remained, but the protests from her pain receptors were too much to bear. _Urgh, so much for resilience training._ She downed what remained of her drink which soothed her throat slightly, but when she looked for the bottle she found it empty next to Blake’s bowl, which was still more than half full.

“I… regret… every decision that led me to this point in my life…” they croaked, pushing their lunch away and resting their head on the wooden table.

“Saaaaaame,” the brawler groaned, doubling over as the burn reached her stomach.

Weiss, on the other hand, was just scooping up the last remnants of her sauce. She pushed the empty bowl away, sipped daintily at her drink, then said in her usual even tone, “Thank you for the meal,” to the owner, who looked as though his every fundamental belief about reality itself had just been shattered.

Yang glared at the former heiress. “What… the actual fuck?”

Weiss simply smirked. “I don’t make idle boasts, you know.” Then she saw Blake faceplanted into the table in despair and Yang clutching her stomach and seemed to realise they were actually in quite considerable distress. “You dolts,” she chided. “This was a terrible idea.”

Blake groaned. “Yeah, I know. Somehow I forgot that my enhanced senses also include taste. It doesn’t usually make much difference, except for when it comes to spices. Urghhhh…”

Yang winced in sympathy. “Ouch. Can’t imagine this stuff hurting any more than it is right now.”

“Well… In all fairness you _did_ eat nearly twice as much of it as me.”

“Still…”

“Can we just agree that this sucks for everyone and move on with our lives, please?” Blake retorted, exasperated.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Come on,” Weiss laid a hand on each of their shoulders and eased them off the stools. “Do I need to take you both home?”

“Nah,” Yang declined. “Should be good in a few minutes.” Blake nodded in agreement, though they still looked distinctly worn. _Crap, I didn’t even think of that. I had no idea Faunus were so sensitive to this kind of thing. If I’d known…_

The Faunus and the brawler shuffled along for a few minutes, hoping to distract themselves with more retail therapy. Weiss hovered behind anxiously.

Eventually, Yang had to ask. “Seriously, princess. How are you not even a little bit affected by that stuff?”

“I just hide it better. I am, in fact, dying on the inside,” she replied, her composed expression and relaxed but confident posture never wavering.

_Damn. And I thought I was tough._

As they meandered once more through the stalls, Blake reminded them both that Yang still owed them a story.

“Ohhhh, that,” Yang answered while examining a series of charm bracelets. “Heh. Well, it was soon after I started working at Junior’s. Back then I was only a bartender, and I’d just started to make some friends. Sage, Sun, the twins, Scar, and Neptune were all there. We’d all just started hitting 18, so to celebrate, the twins stole some of Junior’s booze for the night.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “I swear, those two could get away with anything. Junior adores them.”

“You’re not wrong,” laughed Yang. “So, basically, we were bored and having a few. Next thing we know Sun suggests a game of truth or dare, and we all know he’s doing it ‘cause he wants some action but doesn’t have the guts to actually make a move on anyone there. We go a few rounds. I do that spicy shot thing…”

“You _idiot_ ,” Weiss muttered.

“…Neptune had to inhale a line of black pepper…”

Blake made a sound halfway between hissing and wincing.

“…Scarlet gave Sage a lap dance…”

The monochrome pair blushed in unison.

“Stuff like that. It was a lot of fun. Until somebody decided to dare Melanie to go seven minutes in heaven.”

Blake facepalmed. “There’s always somebody who makes it weird.”

Weiss frowned. “I think it was already weird by the time erotic dances were being given, but alright.”

“ _Anyways_ , this smartass, who’s name _*cough* Sun *cough*_ will go unmentioned was hoping to be the one to get in there. However I, in the interest of fairness, suggested that we do the dare as tradition dictates – with a bottle spin.” Yang trailed off for a moment. “Yeah, that did _not_ go as I was expecting.”

“Are we to take it you were selected by the bottle?” Weiss inquired.

“Yup,” Yang replied, popping the ‘p’ sound at the end.

Blake chuckled. “How was it?”

The brawler scratched at the back of her head. “It was… pretty awkward at first, to be honest. We got locked in a closet, so no personal space. Melanie knew I thought I was straight, so she didn’t push it. Said she wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. I had my back against the closet wall and she was right in my face. I wasn’t brave enough to make the move myself, but I did… suggest that I might not be as straight as I thought I was.”

“Mmm,” Blake agreed. “Five minutes with another girl’s tongue in your mouth can tend to do that.”

_Dust-damnit! You think you can out-tease me?_

Fighting back a flush creeping up her neck, Yang retorted. “It might’ve been my first kiss with a girl, but I gave as good as I got. When they banged on the door and said we could come out, Melanie told Sun to piss off, said she wasn’t done with me yet. Guess I just have that effect on people…”

Unintentionally she had side-eyed the former heiress in her response to Blake. _Whoops. Flustered the wrong person. Well. Not that I’m complaining…_

_Ugh, crushes are a bitch._

Indeed it seemed the feline Faunus was unaffected – their stance was relaxed and came across as vaguely disinterested, their expression was fairly neutral and they seemed focused on a series of ornate necklaces near where Yang was looking for bracelets.

But when they made eye contact the illusion of indifference was shattered.

The brawler’s uncle had often been a source of a very particular brand of wisdom, and although he personally didn’t teach her how to fight, he often had a few gems of advice that had served her well, both inside the cage and out.

_“You probably heard a bunch of boring old people like me feed you the line about how the eyes are the window to the soul, or some crap like that. While normally I’d be inclined to dismiss expressions like that as fanciful nonsense, in this case there’s some truth to it. I’m not saying if you stare hard enough as some poor bastard’s peepers you’re gonna read his thoughts like a novel or anything like that. But sometimes you can tell thing about a person by looking them in the eye. It’s just another type of observation. You might see them looking at the spot they intend to hit, or whether they’re a creep looking for somethin’ you ain’t offering. Hell, if you’re trying to find some, ah, company, you can usually tell if someone’s interested or just politely trying to hide their disgust just by lookin’ ‘em in the eye. It’s not perfect, and it’s not foolproof, and it’s not always enough on its own. But it can be another weapon if you learn to use it right.”_

Right now, as Yang focused in on the amber eyes that met hers, she felt like she could see right through Blake.

The slight crinkling of the skin on the outer edges of those golden orbs and the faintest upturn on the corners of their lips combined with the gaze of someone having slightly less-than-appropriate thoughts all combined to create an effect that was almost _predatory_ , like the feline Faunus was preparing to pounce.

_Oh, shit._

Their barely-smile widened just enough to let Yang know that they had just read that thought perfectly.

With impeccable timing, Weiss cleared her throat. _Saved by the princess. Pretty sure that’s not how the story goes, but I’m not complaining. What happened to taking things slowly?_

_Once again. Crushes are an absolute bitch._

“If you two are _quite_ finished undressing each other with your eyes, I think I’d like to move on. I saw a stall over there I’d like to have a look at.”

The brawler blushed and broke eye contact. Blake, meanwhile, was chuckling again. _Smug bastard…_

_Just you wait._

=x=

The afternoon gradually wore away into evening, and as the sun touched the horizon one by one the merchants began to close down for the day. When they realised how late it was the group agreed to start heading back home for the night.

While she couldn’t speak for the others, Yang had thoroughly enjoyed her day out. Aside from the occasional bout of sexual tension, the three of them had gotten along wonderfully. Blake wasn’t always the most talkative of people, but their interesting history and razor-sharp wit made them plenty of fun to hang out with. And Weiss was always great for banter – though sparks often flew between them it was mostly in good fun, and there was already a level of underlying mutual respect between them.

That tends to happen when you accidentally reveal a lot of vulnerabilities to somebody.

The brawler was still embarrassed and annoyed at herself for sharing so much about Neo, but she couldn’t deny it had been a relief to get it out of her system, even partially.

She couldn’t let herself rely on it, though. Weiss was vulnerable and currently attempting to build a new life pretty much from scratch, and the brawler didn’t want to add to what must be a large list of stressors.

So on the walk back she kept up her usual cheery, bubbly persona. At least this time it was not wholly insincere – she genuinely enjoyed her day and almost regretted that it had to end.

Scratch that – she definitely regretted it.

When they arrived at _Belladonna Delights_ she expressed as much. “It’s been a really fun day. Thanks for inviting me, I had a great time with you guys.”

Weiss smiled shyly while Blake did so more confidently. “Likewise,” the Faunus answered. “It’s nice to make a new friend.” They seemed to stumble on their next sentence. “You- uh… We should hang out. Like. More. If you want, I mean.”

_Aw. They’re secretly a dork._

_Crap, I love dorks._

“Yeah! Definitely!”

They stood in an awkward triangle outside the door for another few moments before the monochrome duo both went for the hug at the same time.

“Please, after you,” Weiss offered, stepping back.

“No, it’s fine, you go,” Blake returned, each trying to out-courtesy the other.

_Yeah, they’re both huuuuuge dorks._

Rolling her eyes, Yang reached out and pulled them both in. Weiss let out an undignified yelp at the unexpected collision with the brawler and the Faunus. Eventually the three settled into the gesture, each with an arm around the other two. She savoured the feel of them both pressed closely to her before reluctantly letting go. She bade them both farewell and set off home.

On her way back, her Scroll buzzed. Excited, she opened it, hoping for a message from one of the pair she had just left.

Instead, it was from Junior.

_June 30 th, 10pm. Five rounds. Usual share. You in?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Dun-dun-duuuuuuuuun!
> 
> So this was supposed to be pure shameless fluff. The nightmare at the start just kinda happened.
> 
> In any case, hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> See you all next time <3


	8. Take Me High And I'll Sing

_This week certainly started well._

After Yang left, Weiss and Blake returned to the apartment. As had become their custom, they settled in on the former’s couch for movies with dinner. Once or twice, the former heiress noticed she had let her hand rest in the slight space between her and the Faunus. Each time she realised she pulled back, not wanting to add to the already rather impressive pile of mixed signals.

The hug she had shared with the Faunus and the brawler still had her reeling a little. As they all held each other close it had occurred to Weiss that she had never outright hugged her host once. In fact, aside from that one weekend they fell asleep together, and possibly on the first walk back to the parlour (Weiss’ memory of that night was still hazy but she thought she recalled an arm slung over her shoulder) there had been little to no physical affection between them, and Weiss really didn’t know how she felt about that.

On the one hand, she knew it was a bad idea. Opening that door might easily lead to places it wouldn’t be safe for her to go yet, and she really didn’t want to take that risk. It was taking more and more restraint on the fencer’s part to avoid initiating some form of contact, even something as apparently innocuous as a hug. How much harder would it be to hold back from certain… less than platonic gestures, if she started going down that path now? Perhaps it was fortunate that she was still a touch afraid of getting too close, given the circumstances.

On the other hand, she felt a considerable degree of affection for the feline Faunus, and felt upset at being unable to share that. After all, it made her happy to express such feelings towards Yang, or Scarlet, or even Nora. Add to that her growing realisation that since her sister joined the military nine years ago she had been starved for any kind of physical affection, and it made for a bizarre, conflicting mess of emotions. She _liked_ Blake, and wished she could show it more.

But she didn’t dare take the risk yet. _Besides, it’s not as if I’ll be here forever. Maybe when I move out…_

_Best not make that decision now, though. Just keep the option in mind when the time comes._

She had no delusions that she could be a long way away from residential independence, but she could dream.

She could dream…

=x=

That Thursday, as she collected her wage, Weiss received some heartening news from her employer.

“You’ve picked up the skills pretty fast. I think you’d be ready to handle the Saturday shift. It’s a damn rough night – our busiest of the week – but after the past few weeks I think you can handle it.”

The singer had, of course, pounced on the opportunity.

That weekend had been exhausting, but well worth the extra Lien.

There were more than twice as many bar staff on duty that night, and from about eleven onwards the club was so packed that Weiss barely got a minute of downtime until closing. It took every bit of willpower she had to keep at it, and even then she might not have been able to cope were it not for a few quiet words of support from the senior bartender Jaune.

The blond boy was only a little taller than Weiss, and he was weedy and came across as a bit of a dork, but a supportive dork nonetheless. He ordered energy drinks to be passed up and down the bar staff at half-hour intervals and whenever someone looked on the verge of freaking or passing out he would approach them and spur them to calm or action as the situation needed.

He was, in short, the de facto leader of the shift.

Sometime around five in the morning, the music finally turned down, and the bouncers began shepherding the drunks out of the venue. There were a few scuffles; one particularly creepy man asked Weiss to continue ‘servicing’ him outside, to which Weiss responded by catching the eye of one of the bouncers. Luckily, she caught one she recognised – the deep green hair of Sage, the man she met the day she came for her interview. He seemed to hear the creep’s unwanted attempts at solicitation and calmly asked him to leave.

He seemed almost a little glad when the creep refused, as it gave him an excuse to put the man in an arm lock and all but drag him towards the door and toss him out.

She caught him in the break room after collecting her pay for the night and thanked him profusely.

“It’s alright. Dealing with people like that’s what I get paid for.”

“In any case, I am grateful.”

She also made sure to speak with Jaune after the shift. They talked a little, but it was abundantly clear that both of them needed sleep, so they said their goodbyes fairly quickly.

As seemed to be becoming the norm, Scarlet gave her a lift back to the parlour, though the fencer was too tired for any real attempt at conversation, the caffeine crash from the energy drinks combining unpleasantly with general exhaustion.

Thus, when they arrived, she slurred something which might have been a ‘thank you’ and proceeded straight to the couch to collapse.

_Exhaustion is, at least, a good cure for insomnia…_

=x=

The following week, Weiss received more good news in the form of a call from Militia, one of Junior’s adopted twin daughters, on Wednesday night, as she and Blake were relaxing in the living room of their apartment.

_“Hey there, princess. So Dad asked me to call you, he’s heard about something you might wanna know about.”_

“Oh? Do tell.”

_“Basically, there’s this, like, youth hostel about a ten minute drive away from the club. They’ve emptied their waiting list, but one person dropped out of the running, so there’s, like, a room that’s available to rent, if you want.”_

“That does sound like something I’d be interested in. How much is the rent?”

_“Hold on.”_ There was what sounded like a clicking sound before Militia spoke up again. _“It’s 450 Lien a month, but that includes all your bills, including internet. The rooms each have a small kitchen and a table, a double bed, and a bathroom. Some guys from the club have lived there before, it sounds like a pretty good deal.”_

“That sounds almost too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

_“No catch. You just have to be financially independent of your parents, and stuff like that. You should be fine for it.”_

“I see.”

There was a pause.

_“So, do you want it, or not? I can contact them and reserve the room for you if you want.”_

“It sounds perfect. I’ll take it.”

_“Cool. I’ll get that done for you. It’s an open deal so you can leave at any time, you just need to give a month’s notice, and if you break anything you pay for it. The last guy who lived there moves out at the end of the month, so you should be good to move in on the first of July.”_

“Thank you. It… means a lot.”

_“Don’t worry about it. We look out for each other.”_

“So I’m noticing. I owe you for this.”

_“Whatever. Buy me a drink, or something.”_

“I will. Thank you, again.”

_“So once you move out, do you plan on finding a spine and making a move on that hot Faunus you keep talking about?"_

Heat rushed through her, embarrassment and excitement simultaneously. “Shut up.”

_“They’re in the room right now, aren’t they?”_

“Yes.”

_“They can probably see you blushing, can’t they?”_

“Shut up! I’m not blushing!”

_“Whatever you say, princess. Later.”_

She slowly lowered her Scroll, feeling almost shell-shocked. _It’s barely been three weeks, and soon I’ll have a place of my own. Dust, this is all happening so fast…_

_Why are those two so helpful yet so insufferable?_

She was jolted out of her reverie by the Faunus asking, “What was that all about? You alright?”

The fencer shook herself. “Yes, I’m alright. Better than alright, actually.”

“Oh?” Blake quirked an eyebrow.

“Militia has found me a place in a local youth hostel. I might be able to move out soon.”

Weiss had no idea how the Faunus would take the news, whether they would be glad to be rid of her, or disappointed to see her leave.

Apparently, their response was to be neither of these things, as they immediately burst into a wide grin. “That’s great! I’m glad to hear it.” Immediately they froze.

Weiss knew exactly where this was going, however, and forestalled their backtracking. “I know! Don’t worry, I know you mean that in the best way possible.”

Blake tilted their head to the side slightly, wary. “How did you know I was worrying about that?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Because I’ve spent the past three weeks in close proximity to you, you dolt. I know you get anxious about these things.”

They shrugged, attempting unsuccessfully to mask their tension. “What can I say? Sometimes I phrase things badly.”

The fencer felt a strange urge to rest a hand on Blake, somewhere. Weiss resisted. “In this case, I can guarantee that you’re fine. Besides, I imagine the thought of having your own space back is somewhat a relief,” she replied, adding a teasing edge to her tone in an attempt to avoid sounding reproachful.

The artist took their time in responding. “You’re not wrong. I do like my alone time.”

“So do I,” Weiss responded softly. “I understand, and there isn’t anything wrong with that.”

“I just didn’t want to make you feel unwelcome. That’s why I never said anything,” Blake explained.

“Fair enough. But now we know we’ll both be getting our own spaces soon. Militia said the room is free from the start of July.”

Blake smiled. “That’s in just over a week.”

“Exactly. Not very long at all.”

After a moment of quiet, the Faunus softly asked, “Will you still want to keep in touch after you leave?”

Weiss facepalmed. “What kind of question is that? Of course!” She then hastily added, “If you want to, of course.”

“Well, yeah,” Blake replied haltingly. “I just wasn’t sure if you did.”

Times like this really hit home what Weiss had always suspected about the Faunus – their confident façade was just that – an illusion created to hide insecurity, vulnerability.

_I have to be careful how far I push them at once. Too much and they’ll close themselves off._

_Like when I casually told them to stop worrying about having upset me – I know if I come on too strongly with my observations they’ll retreat._

_What made them feel the need to hide their vulnerabilities so much?_

Neither of them chose to broach the topic of the other things that living apart would permit. No sense in rushing these things, after all. _It didn’t work out brilliantly last time…_

Still, there was a tingling in the air that had been absent since they had agreed to keep their relationship platonic. Certainly Weiss was thinking about it, and she strongly suspected Blake was, too. There was simply so much to look forward to – Weiss hated to admit it for fear of seeming ungrateful, but she desperately missed having a place that was truly _hers_ , somewhere she could retreat to and fortify against any intruder. Somewhere she could just be alone.

That, and she still felt self-conscious about singing where others could hear. Years of being viciously scrutinized will do that.

All in all, definitely something to look forward to.

“So why _were_ you blushing?”

_Damnit, Militia._

=x=

That Friday, Nora had invited a few people, including Weiss and Blake, to her apartment for a movie night. Ren had then followed up the message to reassure the guests that all the alcohol on the premises had been successfully hidden.

This was wise since many of the guests were movie geeks who would be horrified if their precious entertainment was interrupted by drunken shenanigans.

The monochromatic duo had walked up together. On the way, Blake passed on a warning.

“I should probably have told you about this last time we saw her, but Nora has a tendency to… well, basically, to get with people.”

“Your point?”

“She thinks you’re cute.”

“And?”

“And beautiful.”

_They can’t mean…_

Weiss sighed. “Where are you going with this, Blake?”

“Dust, you can be dense sometimes,” they teased. “I’m saying don’t be surprised if Nora makes a move on you at some point.”

The fencer frowned. “What about Ren?”

Blake shrugged. “Whatever it is that goes on with those two, he doesn’t seem to mind. I mean, Nora’s gotten with everyone in our little social group at some point. Before you, Yang and Scarlet joined, of course. I imagine if Ren had a problem with it something would’ve happened by now.”

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

The Faunus nodded. “Let’s see… Obviously, there’s Ren, she usually makes out with him on every night out. She got with Sun as a dare one time. There were a couple of times with Sage, and she went for Neptune once, too. Only once – guy freaked out mid-makeout. He seemed fine until…”

“Was he alright?”

“Oh yeah, I think he just wasn’t able to deal with intimacy at the time. Sometimes it’s just too much for him to deal with. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Blake’s gaze lingered at the area she had named for a few moments before turning away.

_Wait a minute. There’s still one person they haven’t mentioned._

“What about you?” The singer inquired, smirking a little.

They flushed and lowered their gaze.

Weiss’ smirk grew.

After a few moment to let them stew in their apparent shyness Weiss asked again.

“Yes, alright? It happened once or twice.”

They seemed strangely defensive on the subject, so Weiss opted for a gentler response than she originally intended.

“What’s wrong? There’s no shame in being intimate with someone.”

“Why do you want to know, anyway?” They demanded.

Weiss bristled at the naked hostility in their tone, and fought to keep herself from responding in kind.

_“When hostility arises, it rarely serves one’s needs to retaliate in kind. This will only result in burned bridges. Stand your ground where you can, but remain civil. Never lower yourself to their level. Show no emotion. Show no weakness. Remain calm and controlled.”_

_He may have been a terrible father but he was an excellent diplomat,_ Weiss reflected bitterly.

“I was simply curious. If it’s something you’d rather not talk about, I can drop it.”

“Whatever.”

They had continued on in a tense silence.

_“Open lines of communication are essential. You need to know your enemies’ weaknesses, their pressure points. Understanding these gives you leverage. It also lets you anticipate their behaviour. Taken together, these two facts will grant you control of their actions, if you can exploit them properly.”_

So Weiss decided not to let communication break down.

“Can I ask why the subject bothers you so much?”

They did not respond for a long time.

Weiss didn’t reiterate the question, prod them to answer or even clear her throat too loudly.

The silence had stretched on for just long enough that Weiss thought her question would go unanswered, when Blake finally responded.

“It feels like you’re being jealous, almost possessive, when you ask about things like that. I feel like you’re judging me. Like you’re looking for ammunition to use against me when we aren’t even dating.” Both decided to ignore the unspoken _yet_ at the end of that sentence.

_Of course._ Clarity burst forth in Weiss’ mind. She knew exactly why her questioning had caused the response it did.

She therefore chose her next words very carefully. One wrong move here and their whole friendship and their potential something else would collapse like a house of cards.

“I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that it might come across that way. I’m not trying to judge you at all. It’s your choice who you choose to be… close to. It doesn’t change my opinion of you, and I promise not to use this knowledge to hurt you in any way. I only wanted to sate my curiosity, but that’s no excuse if it’s causing you distress.”

It seemed to take Blake a while to process the former heiress’ speech. After a few minutes, they responded slowly, deliberately. “Okay. If you’re just curious, then that I can deal with.” The words seemed to take great effort to release. “I won’t apologise for reacting the way I did, though. You need to know that I don’t appreciate possessiveness.”

Weiss nodded. “That I can understand.”

Their eyes met, and there was fear in the Faunus’ gaze, but Weiss saw a firmness, a toughness in their face. After a moment their expression softened slightly, in response to Weiss’ remark. “Yeah. You probably get it more than most.” After a moment, they added, “And I know what you’re thinking of asking, so I’m just going to tell you not to go there right now.”

“Fair enough,” the fencer accepted. “How did you know?”

“Because it’s what everyone wants to know when something like this happens. And because I know you can read me better than most, so I suspect you already have an educated guess about what happened. But it’s… not the most pleasant subject for conversation, and whenever I go into detail about it, I get pretty upset. So I’d rather not have that conversation right before we hang out with friends.”

“I understand. Shall we drop the subject?”

Blake nodded. “Thanks.”

They walked on quietly, each processing what the other had said. Then, out of the blue, Blake spoke up again.

“By the way, Nora’s actually a pretty good kisser,” they threw out offhandedly.

Weiss rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

=x=

Nora’s place was a small apartment for students at Beacon University, with a living room and kitchen-diner to share. Her flatmates all had plans that night and so they had the place to themselves.

Ren was already there and was supervising the distribution of popcorn. Meaning he stood guard over the stuff, fending off the redhead pawing at it with the occasional soft jab to her ticklish points, of which there were plenty.

She had already buzzed them in and messaged to say the apartment door was unlocked, but she still seemed startled when the duo walked into the living room and interrupted what was in danger of becoming a make out session. She sprang away from her stoic friend and leapt at them, pulling Weiss into her second group hug, both of the week and of her life.

This time, she made no effort to hold onto the Faunus beside her, however. After the intense conversation they had earlier, she didn’t want to push her luck.

Fortunately, Blake seemed to have let it go, as they brought their arms up to include both Weiss and Nora in the hug, prompting the fencer to do the same.

The triple hug had barely come together before Nora leapt away. _How does she have so much energy all the time?_

“Hey there! Welcome to my castle! Within these walls, my word is law. For you see…”

Blake rolled their eyes. “Brace yourself. And maybe cover your ears.” Their feline appendages had flattened already. In anticipation for what, Weiss didn’t have time to guess.

For the redhead chose that moment to burst into song. “I’M QUEEN OF THE CAS-TLE! I’M QUEEN OF THE CAS-TLE!” She proclaimed musically, dismaying everyone in the room with the sheer volume of the sound.

Weiss actually staggered back a little, hands springing to the side of her head.

When Blake caught her eye and nodded to indicate it was safe, Nora was apparently nearing the end of a triumphant speech. “…For I may compel you to kneel before me with the mere sound of my voice!” At this the fencer almost covered her ears again, but Blake shook their head.

The reason for this became apparent as the redhead sidled over to Ren and asked in her sweetest voice if he really thought it was a good idea to keep her from her snacks.

“Yes, I do. Because I know how to shut you up,” he retorted, before darting towards her and planting a kiss on her smiling lips.

“Grrrr…” Nora grumbled, apparently defeated for now. Instead of pursuing vengeance or making another sally for the snacks, however, she decided to assume the duties of a host and offered Blake and Weiss drinks. “Only got lemonade or coke, since _someone_ decided to hide all the liquor!” She directed a glare at Ren with the last part of the sentence, who merely shrugged in response.

“I’ll have lemonade, thanks,” Weiss responded. In a blur, the redhead was gone. Within seconds, she was back with a glass of sparkling fluid.

Blake requested a coke. When it was delivered, they asked who else was coming.

“Oh, I dunno. I texted Scarlet, Yang, Sage, Sun and Neptune, but only Yang responded. She should be here any minute!” Nora all but vibrated with excitement.

In fact, the vibration was from her Scroll. She ‘squee’d with anticipation, only for a dejected look to cross her face. “Scarlet can’t make it,” she pouted. “Apparently someone dropped off tonight’s shift at the bar so Junior had to ask them to come in instead. They sent a sad selfie with Sage.”

Nora showed them the screen, which did indeed have an image of the bartender with the bouncer, both pouting exaggeratedly.

She flung herself dramatically onto the couch, the very image of woe and dismay as she lay back, an arm over her face as though staving off tears.

Blake was unimpressed. “So are you planning to give us some space on the couch or do I have to get Ren to tickle you?”

In a heartbeat, she was bolt upright and daintily patting the surface next to her.

Weiss giggled slightly and sat down on the far end of the couch. As the three of them settled into a haze of small talk she considered Blake’s earlier words. _Is she really interested in me? It seems unlikely. After all, she clearly has Ren around her little finger, and Scarlet is probably going to end up in a similar predicament. What would she want with me?_

The fencer was jolted out of her reverie by another excitable noise from the redhead, who screamed that Yang had just arrived. She bolted out of the living room to buzz her in, then darted back into the exact place she had been sitting earlier before anybody could react.

Within minutes the brawler entered the room and immediately got the trademarked Nora tackle-hug experience. While she recovered, Weiss rose and sidled over to offer a slightly less aggressive embrace, which Yang returned warmly. After she stepped back, Blake repeated the gesture as greetings were exchanged all around.

A few minutes, when the five of them were comfortably settled into the couch, Nora received another text. Weiss noted the concerned frown and a slight shine in her eyes before the redhead resumed her usual happy-go-lucky expression and announced that, for undisclosed reasons, Sun and Neptune would not be attending either, which meant there need be no further delays in the commencement of the movies.

Except for a rather good-natured argument about the refreshments.

“All I’m saying is that movies are always sooooo much more fun when you play a drinking game with them!” Nora asserted.

“She does have a point,” Yang agreed. “Seriously, try watching _Iron Man_ with the drinking game. Drink whenever you see an explosion or a gunshot. It’s an experience, I’ll tell you that.”

Blake flinched. “Even if those were the only rules, you’d be dead before he even made the main suit!”

“If you’re a little lightweight, maybe,” the brawler retorted, smirking.

“Ahem,” Weiss cleared her throat. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re pretty much exclusively comprised of lightweights here. And I, for one, would like to enjoy a night without having to worry about if the next thing I drink is going to make me vomit.”

“Aww, scared, princess?”

“No, just in possession of a working self-preservation instinct.”

“Translation: in possession of a working stick up your butt.”

“Ooooooh! You just got burned, princess! Her Royal Highness approves!”

“Technically a queen is referred to as ‘Your Majesty’,” Blake chimed in. “But if you want to insult yourself with an inferior title, be my guest.”

“Insolence! Guards! Off with their head!”

“Nora, you don’t have any guards.”

“Then I shall just have to deal with you… MYSELF!”

“If we’re handling Blake, can I join in?”

“Silence, Blondie! This is MY queendom! I decide who handles who!”

“I have a compromise.”

The voice that projected that last line was relatively quiet, but it still silenced the entire room in one fell swoop, since it was its owner’s first contribution to the conversation.

“Originally,” Ren began, “people were invited here under the belief that there would be no alcohol. It seems sensible, then to adhere to that, and instead play drinking games at the next movie night.” He seemed unsatisfied with his own suggestion, however, and after a moment he added, “Also, I am the only one who knows the location of the alcohol, so the point is somewhat moot.”

“We could always tickle him until he talks,” Yang suggested.

Nora shook her head. “Wouldn’t work. Trust me, I’ve _tried_ , the man’s just immune or something. Ooooh! What if we used his DNA to make some kind of cure for ticklishness? Then we could take him down and find out where the booze is!”

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I don’t even know where to begin. Wouldn’t it be faster to just search for the alcohol ourselves? Or, better yet, just save the drinking for another night, as Ren originally suggested?”

This seemed to have no effect on Nora, who had apparently forgotten the conversation and was staring Ren down, probably attempting to break his resolve.

Ren gazed serenely back at her for a minute or two, before she threw her hands in the air and gave in. “Fiiiiiiiine,” she drawled. “We’ll do it _your_ way. But next time, we are _so_ doing movie drinking games.”

“Damn. Guess now I’m outnumbered,” Yang conceded.

“Next time,” Nora reassured the blonde, holding out a fist.

“Heck yeah. Team Bad Ideas, all the way,” she responded, bumping Nora’s tiny fist with her own.

“Now that that’s been settled, can we actually watch a movie of some sort, please?”

=x=

It took five minutes of solid argument to decide which series to marathon through. In the end, Nora and Yang had persuaded Weiss to agree to an _Avengers_ night, creating the necessary majority to pass the decision.

It didn’t hurt that Weiss had seen none of the movies in question anyway, and so was relatively easy to persuade.

A further discussion was needed to determine the watching order. Since Nora had all of the movies currently out on DVD, that wasn’t an issue. But Blake seemed set on watching them in order of the events transpiring, rather than the order of release, which would put _The First Avenger_ first in line. Yang retorted that they were best watched in the order of release, since the events were designed to reference each other.

Then there was the debate about whether to include _The Incredible Hulk_. Ren felt it necessary to give context to Banner’s character in the main movies, but faced staunch opposition from the others (except Weiss), on the basis that it was the Hulk’s one appearance as played by a completely different actor.

It was around an hour later when they were actually ready to start watching anything, and then the first few bags of popcorn were already empty. Ren left to fetch more while Blake accompanied him to get another drink. Nora directed Yang to her room, which contained the bathroom, leaving the redhead alone with Weiss.

“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen _Star Wars_! Like, c’mon. _Star Wars_!”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Yes, because I was really had time to watch movies while being groomed to take over a multi-billion Lien company.”

“But… But… _Star Wars_!”

“Has anyone told you what a complete dork you are?”

“You say that now, but I bet you’ll be worse than any of us when you watch them yourself!”

As her response, the fencer merely rolled her eyes again.

“I hope you are, though.” The redhead’s voice took on a slightly different tone this time. Still teasing, but much more coy than before.

“Why?”

Nora leaned a little closer. “Because dorks are cute, which would make you ever cuter than you already are,” she purred.

_There it is._

It seemed the redhead was content to leave it there, however, as she shifted back to her original position just as Yang returned.

“Alright! Are we gonna do this thing, or what?” She called as she approached.

Since she had to pass through the kitchen to get to the living room, she returned flanked by Blake and Ren, who both indicated their assent.

So began Weiss’ education in the subtleties of popular culture.

=x=

Four movies later, Weiss was angrily shoving tears off her face after watching a certain star-spangled hero submerge himself in ice. She still didn’t understand why a hero was named after his own nation. _I suppose this ‘America’ must be a metaphor for nationalism, or something._ This kind of meta-analysis was not in any way, shape or form an attempt to distract herself from the tragedy of the captain’s decision. Of course.

At least the whole crying thing had given her an excuse to bury her head in the crook of Yang’s neck, the brawler being all too happy to hold the sobbing singer. For the last few minutes they had been arm in arm, and now Weiss had curled up against the stronger woman, warm and content aside from the heart-wrenching agony.

From her sanctuary she saw only glimpses of the rest of the room. From what she could glean between sobs, Nora was similarly struck with emotion and being comforted by Ren, who simply made soft ‘shoosh’ing noises towards the redhead even as faint tear tracks ran down his thin face.

Blake was simply shaking their head, chuckling at everyone else’s misfortune. “Come on,” they laughed. “There had to have been another way. They literally just threw that ‘I gotta put her in the water’ bull just because they needed to find a way for Steve to exist in the future for the main movie.”

Weiss both heard Yang’s response and felt it in the vibrations that resonated out from the brawler’s chest. “Not really. We know from _that_ movie that with his super soldier serum he ages, like real slow. He could’ve just lived through the years between the end of the war and the events of the future. So they didn’t _have_ to freeze him, therefore the feels are legit.”

“The character you’re thinking of had an enhanced version of the stuff, and anyway they kept him frozen in stasis most of the time, so _he_ wouldn’t age, but Steve still would,” Blake countered.

“Whatever. The feels are still legit, is all I’m sayin’.”

“ _You_ only agree because it means you get cuddles,” the Faunus teased.

Yang shrugged with her free shoulder. “I mean, I’m not complaining.”

Without withdrawing from her comfortable position, Weiss shot a glare at the Faunus. “I _can_ hear you, you know. And I think _you’re_ just jealous that I’m getting cuddled,” she retorted in as snarky a tone as possible while still hiccoughing with supressed sadness.

“I’m flattered, but you don’t need to fight over me, you two,” Yang teased. “Plenty of me to share.”

“Ugh,” Weiss groaned in exasperation, pulling away. “If you’re going to be such a smart mouth, then I won’t bother.”

“See, you say that, but by the next Captain America movie, you’ll be begging to come back.”

Blake grinned. “She’s got you there. Even _I_ get weepy at that one.”

“Oh, Dust, what have I gotten myself into?”

Weiss intended for this to be a dramatic proclamation, declaring her dismay and despair to the heavens for all to hear. Unfortunately, the intended effect was lost thanks to a yawn halfway through the sentence.

“Aw, is the princess feeling sleepy? Should I escort her royal highness back to her chambers?” Blake quipped.

The former heiress glared. “Mind your tongue, squire. If you wish to be of service, then fetch me a drink.”

“Get one yourself,” the Faunus retorted, sticking out their tongue.

“So hard to get decent help around here…”

Yang chuckled and rose with Weiss. “I’ll come with. Could use a refill myself.”

The two headed to the kitchen, passing around the still softly weeping Nora, and found the refreshments in question. The fencer experience a yawn of such duration that Yang had time to pour out drinks for both of them before it ended.

“Oh, thank you,” Weiss murmured.

“No problem. Jokes aside, you doing okay?” Yang asked, concerned.

“I’m fine. You’re just too comfortable.”

“Well then, maybe you should stop trying to sleep on my shoulder then,” the blonde teased.

_You won’t get the best of me in banter, Xiao Long._

“We both know you’d miss it if I stopped.”

Yang held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, you got me there. What can I say, cuddles are awesome! It’s like a hug but you can do it without standing up and it lasts a lot longer.”

“It’s *yawn* definitely one of the more pleasant things I’ve experienced since leaving home.”

“Wait. You never had cuddles at home?”

_Damnit._

Focusing on a point behind the brawler to avoid making eye contact, she attempted to respond in her customary calm, even tone she reserved for times when she wanted to conceal her emotional reactions. “My sister Winter would occasionally hold me, if I was crying after… bad things happened. But she left home when I was ten. And my mother passed when I was very young, so if she ever did, I don’t remember.” Her voice cracked a little then, and before she could finish her narration she found herself wrapped up in a tight hug.

“My sister Ruby was too young to really remember anything about our parents when they died. I don’t know exactly what that feels like, but I’ve seen it before.”

Once again, Weiss curled into the embrace. Yang was just so _warm_ and that gentle warmth radiated into her as she was held close to the brawler’s torso.

“I get that it might be hard for you,” Yang began. “But if you want… I’m down for cuddles, like, most of the time. So if you’re ever having a bad time, or heck, if you just feel like it for the hell of it, message me or something, and we can cuddle. Sounds to me like we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, huh?”

Weiss simply nodded, knowing the brawler would feel the motion on her neck. Nestled into that cozy spot, it was _so_ tempting to let the tears out again, but at this point she was fed up of the exercise, and so reluctantly pulled back, wiping at her face again.

After a few moments of deep breathing to compose herself, she responded verbally. “Thank you. I might take you up on that at some point. In the meantime…” Her gaze drifted towards the door that led into the living room. “…Shall we?”

=x=

Apparently, Weiss wasn’t the only one who was struggling with consciousness. As the next movie in the series, the ensemble title, started, she noted both Blake and Ren were blinking much more slowly than usual, and even Nora was quieter than usual, her typical running commentary much more stilted than before.

The last thing Weiss remembered was a man with an eyepatch sassing a bunch of people on a video conference call. Beyond that, she had no recollection.

_Oh well…_ Weiss thought as her attention slipped away from the movie for the last time, and turned briefly to the feline Faunus snoring softly on the shoulder opposite her.

_At least I’m not the only one who’s susceptible to cuddles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bloody hell, these chapters just keep on getting away from me. Didn’t expect this one to end up at over 6k, but there ya go.
> 
> Originally, I intended for Nora to outright move on Weiss, but when I wrote it the whole thing felt rushed and not coherent with the narrative as it was, so I took it out. If you’re looking for a full on Weiss/Nora fic, this isn’t it. Nora is… complex. She’ll be explained more later.
> 
> Or not. Hey, I could just be fucking with you and the next chapter could be where rocks fall and everyone dies. Probably not, but who knows.
> 
> Sleep-deprivation-and-caffeine-overdose-induced ramblings aside, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> See you next week!


	9. One For The Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here we go. Rocks fall and everyone dies. The end.
> 
> Sorry, couldn’t resist :P
> 
> Enjoy the actual chapter!

Saturday afternoon found Yang in the gym, working out the kinks in her neck, back and shoulders that were the inevitable by-product of sleeping while sitting upright. _Not my brightest idea._

Still, as she worked through her stretches and other warm up exercises, she reflected on the previous night. _What is it about her that makes me let my guard down?_ It just seemed so strange to Yang, that even though they had only known each other for a few weeks, that already she was opening up in ways she normally avoided. Weiss was the first person aside from Ruby and Qrow that she had actually talked about her parents with, even in passing.

_Really need to keep a lid on that._

Despite her less-than-perfect suppression of her personal issues at one point, the evening had certainly been a good one. _Never expected Blake would be so cuddly when they’re sleepy, but, hey, definitely not complaining._

She still wanted to know more about the enigmatic artist with training many would kill for, but they seemed reluctant to share any real information about themselves. Though Yang knew their defensive aura probably existed for a good reason, it still made her want to explore the person beneath it.

_Oh, well._

At this point, her thoughts were getting away from her, so she focused on the workout.

_Gotta keep sharp if I’m gonna fight this Friday._

=x=

A few nights before her comeback fight, Yang approached her uncle, who was sat at the flimsy dining table, looking over some paperwork indicative of the family finances, while Ruby was engaged with her work.

“Hey, Uncle! I got some news that’ll make you _crow_ with joy!”

The scruffy man sighed and buried his head in his hands. “Mother, why did you have to name me after a fucking bird…” He groused, not for the first, second, or hundredth time.

Yang waited patiently for her uncle to emerge from his moment of despair, beaming all the while.

When he did, he asked, “Alright. What’s so fantastic that it deserved a damned pun to announce?”

She leaned in conspiratorially. “I have a fight this Friday. Usual take.”

The expression on the old man’s face shifted to one of hope. “Damn! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Didn’t wanna jinx it. There was a bit of screwing around with getting everything arranged, so I didn’t wanna get our hopes up until I knew for sure.”

He gave her an earnest smile as she explained. While she knew he hated that he couldn’t quite provide for both of them on his own, she also knew he was happy that she got to do something she loved.

“Good timing. Things were looking pretty dicey for a second there, too.”

“Well, no need to worry. I’m coming back with a _Yang_!”

There was a ‘thunk’ing sound as Qrow’s head hit the table again.

Before he could make another jokingly bitter remark about how annoying his niece was, the door burst open. The cause of this was the brawler’s younger sister, who was brandishing a bunch of papers covered with calculations.

“I did it! Guys, I did it!” She announced at the top of her voice.

“Oh my Dust! That’s amazing! Uhh… What did you do, again?”

The shorter girl frowned at her sister. “Yang! I told you! I was trying to simulate a device that uses a positronic charge applied to Gravity Dust to generate a repulsion field focused into a mining laser!”

_Wha?_

“Riiiiight. So, the simulation works?”

“YEAH! Once I adjusted the frequency of the electromagnetic focusing arrays, I got the beam to retain cohesion at distances of up to ten meters!”

“Which means…?”

“It’s a long enough distance that it’s actually useful for industrial mining!”

Yang smiled. _That means…_

“So this means your application…”

“I mean, they’ll have to check the sims themselves, but they should accept me!” Ruby looked positively ecstatic. “Yang! I might actually get to go to Atlas!”

_Oh Dust…_

This put Yang in a painful spot. For most of her life, Ruby had wanted to attend the Atlas Technological Institute, Remnant’s largest, most renowned and best-funded research and development university. This was her chance to achieve her dream.

But Atlas was so far away, and the spritely redhead was one of the few constants in the brawler’s life after her parents died. She wasn’t entirely sure just how well she would deal with her absence.

She knew she ought to be happy for her sister, however, so she put on a brave face.

“That’s wonderful! You’ll finally get to live your dream! Oh, get over here!” She held out her arms and nearly staggered backwards from the force of Ruby’s reciprocation. She held the small girl in her arms for a long time, pouring as much love and affection into the gesture as she could, knowing that she didn’t have too much longer to do so.

When the embrace finally ended, Ruby body-slammed her uncle, too, who held on just as tightly as Yang had. The two of them started discussing plans for the formal application, as well as all the various other details that needed to be addressed when applying for university – finance, accommodation, and other such mundane matters.

Yang, meanwhile, decided to leave them to it, pleading exhaustion after a day at the gym.

She retreated to her room and set her music blaring from her Scroll, trying desperately not to think about what life would be like without her sister just a few steps away. She tried not to think of it because such an upheaval terrified her.

But she would be alright, in the end.

She always was.

=x=

Exactly four weeks after her last, controversial fight, Yang found herself back in the changing room behind the blue corner of the cage, donning her combat outfit – a basic sports bra, her customary tank top, black shorts and knuckle tape. No other equipment was permitted – the cage was meant to test pure combat proficiency, and nothing else.

Melanie entered from a side entrance to check in on her. When she assured the snowy-haired woman that she was ready, Melanie left to inform the announcer. Within moments, the call for her came.

She strode out through the double doors into the cage, just as the commentator belted out her name to furious cheers and raucous applause. Letting a blazing smile suffuse her features, she raised her hands and waved, pumped her fists, and generally put on a show for the audience, bathing in their praise, drinking in the hyper-intense mix of sensations: the humidity of the room from all the spectators crammed in, the feel of the cold, hard floor beneath her feet, the stench of sweat, spirits and cheap cigarettes, the incoherent roar that assailed her mind from all directions.

Then the announcer was talking again.

“Aaaaaand, in the red corner! She’s fast! She’s strong! She’s come all the way from Mistral to show us how it’s done! My good people, I give to you… ARSLAN ALTAN!”

A dark-skinned woman with platinum hair emerged from the opposite corner, barely reacting when the cage sealed behind her. She wore an elegant robe, with a single wide sleeve that covered her right arm. Bandages adorned her wrists yet Yang noted she had no tape on her knuckles. She knew in a protracted fight that would cause her opponent some problems.

As the announcer began counting down to the start of the fight, both combatants assumed their stances – Yang with her left foot and hand forward, guarding her stomach, and her right hand high, shielding her face and poised to deliver intense shots; while Arslan held a wider stance, putting her lower to the ground, hands held loosely in front of her body covering the basic areas.

Three strokes upon the bell rung out and reality and thought fell away from Yang like leaves in the wind. The world was a steel trap, her awareness focused entirely upon the woman slowly circling to the brawler’s left. She existed only as a receptacle for sensory data. In effect, she _was_ the cage, _was_ the sound of shuffling feet and the whisper of cloth against the stone floor, _was_ the implacable expression staring her down, _was_ the thrum of blood rushing to her head.

Keeping her guard secure, she shuffled a few steps forward. Without warning, the robed woman jabbed twice in quick succession, one high, one low. Yang deflected each with a twitch of her left arm.

In return, she let off a few light strikes with her own left, keeping her aim high for now. The dark-skinned woman easily blocked the first two, but the third sailed right past where her head had been.

Quick as thought, Yang began pulling her arm back, encountering unexpected resistance when she realised the hand that had diverted the jab had now closed in a vice around her wrist. Arslan shifted around to Yang’s left and made to deliver a shot to her kidneys. The brawler twisted her hips slightly to throw off the shot, wincing slightly when knuckles collided with the solid bone. She knew the hit would’ve hurt her opponent more, however, so she ignored the pain and jabbed with her right hand at the grip on her left.

The instant her fist hit Arslan’s hand the grip was relinquished, so she followed up with a swift lunge of her left elbow, twisting her hips as she shot the hardened point of bone into Arslan’s sternum.

With a gasp, the dark-skinned woman stumbled back. Yang flashed her a cocky smirk, and closed in again. This time, she went low, aiming for the shorter woman’s stomach.

Arslan swung around, pivoting on her left foot and twisting clockwise, bringing her right elbow up as she did so, evading the jab and simultaneously flowing into a counterattack. Yang’s right arm was still raised, however, and as the blow approached she ducked her head slightly and used her forearm to deflect the incoming strike, leaving Arslan’s side exposed.

Immediately she jabbed at the dark-skinned woman’s ribs, scoring a direct hit. Before she could follow up, however, Arslan had already pulled back. They circled for a few more moments before Arslan moved in again, this time aiming a low kick, lashing out quickly with her forward foot at Yang’s shin. The brawler shifted her front leg slightly to the left, causing the dark-skinned woman’s attack to miss by a hair’s breadth. Arslan pulled her foot back, bringing up both arms and forming a cross with them in front of her face as she did so.

Yang jabbed with her left at the shorter woman’s now unprotected stomach, landing a hit just before Arslan’s foot had chance to return to the ground. Although it was a relatively light hit, it still unbalanced her enough that her guard broke as she attempted to steady herself.

In a heartbeat Yang exploited the opening, delivering a powerful blow with her right, sinking her knuckles into Arslan’s cheek.

For an instant the world outside the cage stole the brawler’s attention as the crowd bellowed with approval at the hit.

Arslan staggered and fell backwards, rolling into the fall and turning over her right shoulder to regain her footing. Despite the hit she had taken, her expression remained stern and unwavering.

As the bell rung, signalling the end of the first round, Yang allowed her conscious thoughts to return for a few moments.

 _She doesn’t mess around._ Despite herself, the brawler couldn’t help but be impressed by her opponent’s fortitude.

The first round was often the most important – it gave the opponents a chance to get a feel for each other, learning each other’s fighting styles and weaknesses, hence why it had been relatively relaxed compared to the brutality that awaited them.

She strode towards the blue corner where Junior was waiting with a water bottle and a towel. Quickly she wiped the sweat from her brow and quaffed heartily from the bottle.

Junior quietly murmured a few encouraging words before taking back the items as the bell rang again, signalling the beginning of the second round.

This time her opponent wasted no time, charging directly at the brawler, deadly calm on her face as she released a series of rapid hits in an attempt to overwhelm her.

Yang didn’t waste energy attempting to block each hit, which she knew would have resulted in her guard being broken by the sheer speed of the incoming attacks. Instead, she allowed Arslan to strike at her torso freely, her conditioning enabling her to withstand the hits with impunity.

Keeping her guard high, she retaliated with a quick one-two, forcing Arslan to block and thus breaking her pattern of attacks. Yang followed up with a series of blows. She jabbed at Arslan’s face with her left, which her opponent could only hastily block. She followed through with her right, stepping forward to deliver an uppercut, which Arslan just barely dodged by sidestepping to the brawler’s left, right into the firing line of her left hand.

Yang stepped through again, driving a shot straight into the dark-skinned woman’s stomach. Thrusting out her forearm to occupy both of Arslan’s, she drew her left hand back to deliver a second pummelling blow.

Unfortunately Arslan had apparently anticipated this, as she dropped her weight and tilted to her left, Yang’s right, and swung her body anticlockwise on her left foot while extending her right leg, sweeping out Yang’s legs from beneath.

The brawler couldn’t quite ignore the pain she felt when her back hit the floor.

Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to completely incapacitate her, and she rolled backwards, springing back to her feet. The dark-skinned woman’s face still betrayed no emotion other than grim determination, not even a hint of satisfaction at her move. That was… irritating, to the brawler.

Yang charged, loosing another flurry of blows which Arslan kept evading nimbly, much to the frustration of the blonde. The shorter woman responded with another attempt at a leg sweep, but this time Yang wasn’t precariously overextended, and was therefore able to dodge the attack, leaping on the spot letting Arslan’s leg sweep right underneath her. As she landed her opponent was in the process of returning to an upright stance, and so she was still a little off-balance. Yang exploited this by lashing out with her right foot as gravity pulled her earthwards. The combined momentum of her fall and her muscles drove into Arslan’s left shin, the one she was resting most of her weight on.

The shot forced the dark-skinned woman’s leg backwards, unbalancing her and sending her to the floor. Deftly she rolled into gravity’s pull, away from Yang. Before the brawler could close and deliver a hammering to her downed foe, she had already regained her footing, though Yang noted that she was avoiding resting too much weight on her left leg now.

They exchanged a few more light, glancing blows that had only superficial effects, then the brawler seemed to break Arslan’s upper guard, and launched a heavy strike from her right hand, stepping into the shot.

Apparently this was exactly the opportunity Arslan had been waiting for as she stepped to Yang’s right and grabbed her attacking hand in her right. The dark-skinned woman’s left elbow drove into the brawler’s ribs once, twice, thrice, each hit forcing air out of her lungs.

While Yang was breathless and stunned, the robed woman stepped forward with her right foot, twisting her hips. Her left hand caught the edge of Yang’s chin, turning her face. This opened the way for Arslan’s right hand, which had formed a fist.

The force of the impact sent a shock through Yang’s entire body, and propelled her back several steps, her arms springing up in a vague semblance of a guard. Though she stumbled and nearly fell, she managed, in spite of the multi-coloured sparks dancing in her vision, and the throbbing pain in her face, to retain her footing.

Arslan charged again, lashing out with a stamping kick. Even with dazed mind and questionable vision, however, Yang caught the incoming foot, though the force of the attack still caused her to slide back a few centimetres. Without hesitation she twisted around, still holding Arslan’s foot, catching the shorter woman’s leg against her left bicep, taking the shorter woman off her remaining foot and onto the ground.

As she converted her downward momentum into sideways by rolling, the bell rang again.

Yang stumbled back to her corner, still a little dazed but determined. Junior was shaking his head. “That little mid-air kick. What was that?”

The brawler waved him off, too tense for words. After quickly hydrating she shuffled back into position, cracking her neck for dramatic effect.

Arslan stared her down, unimpressed. Still with that implacable mask, the robed fighter shifted into her loose stance as the bell rung.

Round three was brutal from start to finish.

The dark-skinned woman opened the fight again, this time swinging out with a roundhouse kick aimed straight for Yang’s temple.

From the whoosh of the air above her head as Yang ducked, she knew the strike had enough force to knock her unconscious instantly. If she was lucky.

Shaking off the sinking feeling in her stomach caused by her potential brush with death, Yang attempted to press the advantage as Arslan recovered her balance from the kick. The robed woman responded by twisting with the momentum of her kick, shifting herself out of the way of the incoming barrage of strikes, her body flowing around the blows like a river around rocks.

Every strike missed pissed Yang off even more, a double-edged result for the brawler. While her growing fury lent her attacks greater strength, her focus was impaired.

She lashed out with a blow to Arslan’s ribs. Had it connected the shorter woman’s ribcage would likely have been fragmented. As it was, she instead stepped off-centre from the shot, easing it away with a hand and allowing the force of the attack to carry Yang forward, overextending her body.

Yang swore she saw the faintest hint of a smirk before Arslan stamped out in a furious kick, striking the brawler directly in the sternum. Gravity pulled her earthwards as she staggered back. This time she hit the ground flat, unable to break her fall properly in time. A shock reverberated up her spine and she heard a distant voice reciting something in regular time.

Numbers?

_Oh, hell no._

She pulled her legs to her chest then kicked out, rolling into it and finding her feet beneath her once more, as the count reached seven. _Too close._ Bringing her guard up, she spat blood onto the cage floor. The crowd yelled in jubilation at the evidence of the primal violence as she teased her opponent. “I can do this all day, gorgeous,” she breathed, punctuating the sentence with a wink.

A flicker of doubt in the dark-skinned woman’s eyes might have been in Yang’s imagination only, but regardless, it spurred her on.

They closed again, exchanging flurries of blows, superficial strikes connecting when both women failed to fully block or evade them due to exhaustion.

Dimly Yang was aware of her body sending a dozen shrieking signals from various parts of her body – dull throbs from her shoulders and arms from poorly-blocked strikes, stinging sensations from her legs from the sweep attack that floored her earlier, and sharper pains in her ribcage, which had absorbed a few too many hits already. Not to mention the splitting pain in her sternum, though thankfully it wasn’t severe enough to indicate a crack.

By the end of the round, Yang was reduced to pure defence, lacking the energy to counterattack. When the bell rang, she stumbled with less grace than her drunk self towards her corner.

The bearded man there had a few choice words for her. “Damn, Blondie. You’re gettin’ hammered out there.”

“You think… I don’t know that?” She tried to snap back, though it came out as more of a pant.

“You just gonna sit there and let her beat the crap out of you?” Junior demanded.

The brawler almost retorted with an equivalent level of viciousness, but then the implications of his words washed over her.

“You know what, Junior?”

“I think that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

=x=

_It never seemed to matter how good her offense was – even when she had him on the ropes, Junior always found a way to turn it around._

_Still, she supposed that was why he was the teacher, and she the student._

_After being beaten to the floor for the twelfth time that day, Yang had to pull herself upright on the ropes, smacking away the proffered hand. “How do you do it?” She demanded hotly. “Every damn time. I got you backed into a corner in half those matches, and somehow you still won. How?!”_

_The bearded man chuckled. “A little trick I learned from your dad.”_

_When she maintained her furious gaze, he relented and explained._

_“You’re right. Half those fights, more than half if I remember right, you got me right where you wanted me. I know you’re a damn good fighter, Blondie. I could always tell when I couldn’t stop you from getting my back to the edge.”_

_“Your old man pulled that same crap on me when he taught me. When I asked him how he did it, he told me somethin’ real strange. He said sometimes you have to lose to win.”_

_Yang snorted, unimpressed. “Yeah, mind explaining how that works? Losing is kinda the opposite of winning.”_

_“Yeah, that’s what I said. But it all depends on how you lose. I knew when you were gonna beat me. I knew when you were gonna back me up and let rip. So I let ya. Gave you what you wanted, then hit you when you were too busy bustin’ me up to think about defence.”_

_“You have your back to the wall, you give the one who put you there exactly what they want. But do it on your terms, and you can hit ‘em when they least expect it.”_

_That was when Yang stopped losing all her fights with her mentor._

=x=

When the fighters started each other down at the start of round four Yang noticed a change in Arslan’s gaze. She seemed more tense, almost agitated.

Yang tested her – jab, jab, cross. Arslan parried them all, but her movements were a hint less smooth, a touch less polished.

The dark-skinned woman’s counters held nothing back, however, and Yang was hard-pressed to stop them all.

After a few such exchanges the brawler was forced back with only a few centimetres separating her from the cage wall. Then Arslan suddenly changed tactics. She lowered her shoulders and made like a bull right at Yang. The brawler quickly sidestepped and laid a hand on Arslan’s bare left shoulder as she passed, guiding her towards the cage.

The robed fighter smashed right into the solid metal, and couldn’t stop a pained groan from emerging. Immediately she pushed off the cage wall and initialled another series of attacks, forcing Yang onto the retreat again.

Counting her steps, the brawler knew she had to be close to the other wall. She wasn’t fool enough to think the same trick would work twice, and as Arslan charged again, she knew what she had to do.

She dropped her arms slightly, as though with fatigue. She inhaled, and let go of sensation.

She barely noticed when her opponent’s shoulder struck her in the gut, and she could only just feel the cold, hard steel of the cage smashing into her back.

Then the punches came, hard and fast into her stomach. Like the roar of the crowd, they felt dim, muted, as though coming to her from a great distance.

A feral snarl tore through Arslan’s grim expression as she laid into Yang’s stomach again and again.

_Finally._

Summoning a last bout of strength, Yang brought her hands towards each other as quickly as she could, wincing as the flat edges struck on either side of Arslan’s neck. As the robed woman ceased her barrage, stunned, Yang followed up swiftly by cupping each hand and bringing them swiftly into Arslan’s ears, deafening her.

Clutching her head with both hands, she stumbled back, growling in pain. As she vaguely threw up her arms in something probably meant to serve as a guard, Yang pushed forward, landing a couple of light hits on the dark-skinned woman’s face.

Until a fist connected with Yang’s gut and forced her back.

_“Give them what they want, and you can hit ‘em when they least expect it.”_

The force of the impact caused the brawler’s upper body to surge forward. As she did so she let her arms lash forward with the carried momentum, her right landing squarely on Arslan’s jaw.

Yang had taken the kinetic energy fired into her by the stomach shot and redirected it directly at her opponent. Essentially, she struck her opponent with roughly the same intensity with which she herself was hit.

And Arslan had thrown on hell of a punch.

She hit the ground a heartbeat after her blood splattered onto the grey stone.

Listlessly, she stirred as the referee began the count-out. Yang’s heart raced with terror. _Yeah, she better not get up. Don’t think I could pull something like that off again._

“One.”

Arslan groaned.

“Two.”

She spat more blood, cursing too low to hear.

“Three.”

Yang bit her lip anxiously.

“Four.”

Arslan’s hands found their way underneath her body.

“Five.”

Yang resignedly raised her fists again, ready to give her last.

“Six.”

Arslan gave an almighty shove, but then to gasps of astonishment from the crowd, gave out and fell back to the floor.

“Seven!”

Yang kept her guard up, reluctant to believe her luck.

“Eight!”

Arslan tried again to force herself up, but her hand slipped on some of the pooled sweat and blood on the floor and she lost her balance again and collapsed.

“Nine!”

Yang forgot how to breathe for a few moments.

“TEN!”

“WE HAVE A KNOCKOUT! YANG XIAO LONG IS THE WINNER!”

Yang barely heard the roar of the crowd, or even Junior’s congratulations. She stumbled to her corner, the cage doors opening as her mentor let her out. Without bothering to attend to the crowd she made for the changing room and promptly collapsed in a heap on the cold tiles.

=x=

It took a moment for her to come to, but when she did, the worried expression of her boss swam before her.

She cracked a faint imitation of her usual teasing grin. “Guess I just… couldn’t help but fall for ya, huh?”

Junior gasped out a laugh, eyes shimmering slightly.

_Was he…?_

_No way._

_Junior doesn’t cry. I’m just spaced from the fight, still._

Firmly he grasped her hand and helped her up. As she began peeling the tape from her knuckles, he praised her performance as eloquently as he knew how.

“Damn. I gotta admit, you had me worried there, in the third. But what you did in the fourth? Tai would’ve been proud. I know it.”

Despite her pretty much constant pain permeated most of her body, something warm flushed through her as those words, and in particular something seemed to burn its way up her throat to rest behind her face.

When she had completely removed the tape from her hands and clenched and unclenched her fingers a few times to get the blood flowing properly again, he handed her a large wedge of cash.

Yang frowned, then winced as a fresh sharpness shot through her as she stretched some of the muscles in her face that had taken a battering. “This is more than my usual share,” she accused.

“Well that wasn’t your usual kind of fight,” Junior retorted. “Normally you can eat whoever gets thrown at you for breakfast. This time I made sure you had to really work for it. You had to fight better than you usually do, so I’m payin’ you more than usual. That’s that, and don’t bother arguing.”

“Listen here,” she began, then hissed as a wave of agony washed through her. “Actually,” she considered. “Fuck that. Don’t have… the energy… to argue.”

“Thank Dust for that.”

=x=

Before heading home (not on foot – Junior had insisted on calling in Scarlet to get her a lift, an argument which had taken the better part of half an hour), Yang had one last thing to attend to.

Or rather, one person to speak to.

She found her at the bar, staring into a glass of sparkling black liquid. She had changed into a new robe, slightly heavier and thicker than her combat gown. Yang pulled up the stool next to her and waved down the bartender.

“Get me a Strawberry… actually, scratch that. Just. Vodka. Neat. Best you got.”

The blond man behind the counter nodded and retrieved an artistic bottle from beneath the counter. Its shape was jagged and irregular, a quirk of the manufacturer, no doubt.

_Pretentious as hell, but worth it._

Filling a short round glass halfway, he grinned and passed over the spirit. “On the house,” he assured her as he did so. “After that fight, I think you earned it. And a good night’s sleep.”

“Thanks, Jaune,” Yang responded, tossing a sleepy smile at him. “You can stop mothering me now.”

_Wait, crap._

Jaune must’ve caught the worried expression on her face because he immediately forestalled her attempts at apologies. “Don’t worry about it,” he responded airily. “Pretty sure anyone can be the ‘mom’ friend.”

After that he retreated to a respectful distance to grant the women some semblance of privacy.

Yang nursed the clear liquid in her glass for a long time, savouring the burn for the distraction it provided from the actual pain.

After sitting in silence for an apparent eternity, Arslan finally spoke up.

“You here to gloat?”

“Nah. Gloating’s for assholes.”

“Then what do you want?” The robed woman demanded.

Yang leaned back. “To say thanks.”

Arslan narrowed her eyes. “We just beat the shit out of each other, and you’re thanking me? How hard did I hit you?”

“You got me good,” Yang admitted with a faint laugh. “But I’m not delirious anymore. At least, I don’t think I am. I’m thanking you because you gave me the best fight I’ve had in months.”

Arslan turned away, back to her drink.

Sensing her doubt, Yang pressed on. “I mean it. For the first half, you dominated. Like, seriously. That leg sweep? Damn.”

The corners of the robed woman’s lips turned up a hint. “You should’ve seen your face when you lost balance.”

The brawler chuckled. “Yeah, bet that’s one for the memories, huh. And that one-two you got me with, that was somethin’, alright.”

That budding smile widened a hint more. “Alright, you made your point,” she replied, though with considerably less hostility.

“Good.” Yang grinned at the shorter woman, who, after a moment, grinned back.

The brawler held out a hand. “Good match.”

The robed fighter took the proffered hand in a gentle shake. “Indeed it was.”

They sat quietly together, sipping their respective drinks, in no hurry.

When both glasses were empty, Yang waved Jaune over. “One more for me. And another… what were you drinking there?”

She surprised Yang by answering, “Just a coke, thank you.”

“Alright, you heard the lady.”

Jaune nodded and poured out the drinks, again refusing to take money from either of them.

Yang raised an eyebrow quizzically.

In response, Arslan merely shrugged. “I don’t drink. Not really my thing.”

“Fair enough,” the brawler responded.

After another moment, Yang asked something. “You know, if you ever want someone to hang with, how about you hit me up sometime? Not literally,” she added, laughing slightly, “I think I got enough of that already.”

Arslan chuckled softly. “You know, I like the sound of that.”

Yang raised her glass. “To new friends,” she offered as a toast.

The robed woman clinked her glass against Yang’s. “I can drink to that. New friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: God, those fight scenes really take it out of me. Please do let me know what you thought of them – I don’t have too much experience with writing fights as compared to other aspects of my stories, and I could really use some feedback on how well they read.
> 
> Other than that, hope you enjoyed. Comments of pretty much any variety are much appreciated, as always.
> 
> EDIT: ALSO
> 
> So as I said back in the first chapter I’ve had a backlog of chapters written for this fic. That backlog is running out. I’ve been struggling to keep writing for this fic because I need some more variety in what I write. There are currently 2 chapters complete and ready to upload, so updates will still be weekly for the next couple of weeks, maybe 3 if I get chapter 12 done in that time. But I can pretty much guarantee that said regularity is going out of the window after that.
> 
> THAT BEING SAID I am a) not abandoning the fic and b) not stopping writing in general. I actually need more things to work on so I don’t end up feeling like I can only work on this one when I want to write. SO if anyone wants to go onto my blog and send me prompts for fluffy little oneshots, I would much appreciate it. My blog information should be on my profile – I’ll check and update if necessary after writing this. I’ll take most ships, though nothing involving Ruby except Nuts and Dolts, nothing with massive age gaps, stuff like that. Feel free to send me asks or w/e if you aren’t sure if I’ll write a thing.
> 
> But yeah. Prompts would be great.
> 
> (Also keep an eye out, there’s a shitty pirate AU in the works. Not sure if it’s gonna be full Bee’s Schnees or just Bumblebee, but yeah. It’s a thing, and it’s shitty, and I put waaaaay too much thought into weapons technology where Dust meets flintlocks. Just sayin’)
> 
> See you next time <3


	10. Look For The Light That Leads Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, folks! Happy holidays! Hope you all have a lovely time wherever you are and whatever you celebrate, if anything.
> 
> Apologies for the long delay in updating – coursework had me pretty stressed out and unable to focus, but it's done now!
> 
> Content warning for this one – character has a panic attack which is done in some detail. If that’s likely to set you off, skip from “It was all far too much to think about” to “A rumbling in her stomach” and you’ll miss it. Be safe, folks.

The day had finally come.

Saturday the first of July. The day of Weiss’ exodus from Blake’s couch.

Needless to say, Weiss hadn’t slept the night before, excitement acting as a rather effective deterrent to sleep.

By the time Blake finally emerged from their room, Weiss was already fully dressed and ready to go. The Faunus had decided to take the day off to accompany the former heiress and their soon-to-be former tenant to her new place.

They still had plenty of time to get ready, however, as they were waiting on none other than Yang, who, on instruction from Militia, was to take Weiss to her new home. The paperwork had already been signed and the fencer had paid her first month’s rent, grimacing at the sharp reduction in her already limited finances. All of the singer’s meagre possessions had been packed up, ready to go.

In short, all preparations had been made. She was ready.

What she was utterly _un_ prepared for was the sight that greeted her when Yang arrived to escort them to the hostel.

Most of the left side of the brawler’s face was mottled black and blue. She walked slowly, tension in her neck suggesting near-constant pain. Perhaps that was why she wore her oversized hoodie and baggy jeans – loose clothes being less likely to agitate any wounds she might have. Or perhaps it was so Weiss’ suspicions about the extent of her injuries remained mere suspicion.

“Yang! What happened?” Weiss demanded, worry shooting through her chest. _If I find out who did this…_

_Well, there’s not much I could do, but still!_

Yang grimaced. “Nice to see you too, princess.”

“Seriously, Yang, are you alright?” Blake inquired more gently.

“Oh, this?” She asked, gesturing at her face. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ve had way worse.”

For once, Weiss’ gaze roaming up and down the brawler’s body wasn’t for lewd reasons. Noting Yang’s shrunken stance and general stiffness of motion, she could tell there was more than just the shiner on the brawler’s face.

“Yang, you’re obviously a lot more injured than you’re letting on. You should be in bed, resting!”

Yang recoiled. “Well excuse me for wanting to help out a friend. Some gratitude there, Weiss.”

Blake stepped between the two of them. “Settle down.” First their turned to the fencer. “Weiss, I know you’re just worried, but yelling at Yang isn’t going to help.”

_I wasn’t…!_

“Yes, you were.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” The Faunus shifted their attention to the brawler. “And as for you, Yang, Weiss _is_ right to be concerned. We’re your friends, you know,” they spoke softly.

The brawler sighed, shoulders slumping a little. “Yeah, I know. I’m just… not the biggest fan of being worried about, y’know?”

Blake let out a hint of a smirk. “You don’t say,” they teased gently. “But whatever happened, you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

They stepped out from between the two women.

_Alright. Less aggression this time._

“What I was trying to say is that I _care_ about you, you dolt.” _Damnit._ “If you’re not alright, you can talk to me.”

Yang chewed her lip. “You don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into.”

_Are we just talking about her injuries at this point?_

“Believe me, I do. I know you struggle with seeking support. I also know that it’s frustrating to you that you find actually talking about what’s hurting you to be helpful, for that very reason. And after that talk we had outside _Torchlit_ ,” her voice softened from the firm tone she had been employing until this point, “I know that you’re carrying a lot of pain. So, actually, I think I have some idea of what I’m doing by offering my support.”

Tentatively she rested a hand on the brawler’s shoulder. “And I’m still offering.”

Yang did not, as Weiss feared, shy away from the touch. “I hear you,” she muttered. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

Before awkward silence could descend, Blake intervened. “Shall we?”

=x=

On the walk to her new home, Weiss learned a number of things. After some gentle coaxing, Yang revealed her injuries had come from a cage match she had fought the night before. “Yeah, she was good. Toughest fight I’ve had in a long time. But I got her in the end.”

“Wait a second,” Blake interrupted. “You won even after she gave you that?” They demanded, pointing at the general vicinity of the brawler’s face.

“Yup,” Yang replied simply, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“Damn. Hate to be her right now.”

“Yeah, me too. But hey, at least I made a new friend.”

“You talked to her after?” Weiss marvelled.

“Oh yeah, we had a drink or two. I got a lot of respect for anyone who can hold their own in the cage. Wanted to tell her that, y’know? Shake her hand and all that.”

“And she was alright with that?”

“Not at first, but once I told her I wasn’t there to rub it in her face she opened up a bit. I was thinking of inviting her along next time the group does something, if that’s alright?”

Blake and Weiss both nodded their assent. “The more, the merrier,” The Faunus answered.

=x=

The journey stretched on. After nearly an hour they reached the youth hostel. From the outside it was a plain enough building, red-bricked, stretching up three storeys. The front door was locked, but there was an intercom on the wall next to it. Weiss called up the office and was promptly buzzed in.

The landlord seemed a pleasant enough fellow, if a little long-winded. He introduced himself as Mr Port, former professor at Beacon University. After pontificating his way through the basics about living in the hostel, he gave Weiss her room key and a card for the front door. “You shall inhabit room number twelve, on the very top floor. Go up both sets of stairs, down the hall, turn right and at the end of that corridor you shall find your new home!” He instructed pompously.

“Thank you, Mr Port,” Weiss graciously replied.

“Not at all, dear lady! You are most welcome indeed.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries of increasing triviality, the trio eventually managed to extricate themselves from the kindly if loquacious gentleman. Weiss’ heart raced as they climbed the stairs, a combination of anticipation and anxiety. _What if the cooker doesn’t work? What if the old tenant left something disgusting in the refrigerator? What if the hot water isn’t reliable?_

Seeming to sense her nerves, Yang reached out and caught her right hand with one of her own. Sidling towards the fencer’s left, Blake took the other, and both gave her gentle squeezes to calm her down.

_Whatever happens, I can face it. I can do this._

_Because I don’t have to do it alone._

Taking a moment, she met the gazes of her friends one at a time, squeezing back as she did so. Affection reflected back at her from eyes lavender and amber alike.

Satisfied that she had made her point, she centred her gaze.

Hands forming a living chain, the three strode down the corridor to Weiss’ new room.

=x=

_This is going to take some getting used to._

Though the former heiress was definitely glad to be independent, there was more than a hint of bitterness mixed in. _A heavy cost to pay for freedom._

_I pay it gladly._

The electric stove was old – the burners took a ridiculously long time to heat up, and the front two barely did anything even on full power. The shower leaked for a minute or two after being used, resulting in mould around the shower head. Though it _had_ been emptied, the fridge still smelled a little bit… questionable. None of the three folding chairs sat quite evenly on the floor. The windows were sealed shut (“safety reasons,” Port had puffed morosely. Weiss hadn’t asked for clarification.) so the room itself got uncomfortably hot quite easily.

At least she had a double bed. Definitely an improvement from a couch, even one as plush and cozy as Blake’s.

_I have a home._

The thought was overwhelming.

Both Blake and Yang had been incredibly supportive in the whole process, so Weiss felt more than a hint of guilt for wanting them both gone. It was all just too much.

“You two…” she began, barely able to steady her voice.

Blake caught on immediately. “Yang, how about we head back to my place, so I can take a look at your injuries?” They offered, giving a knowing look to the brawler. “I know first aid,” they added.

“Uhhh, sure thing,” Yang replied hesitantly. She directed her next comment at the fencer. “We’ll head off, give you some time to settle in, yeah?”

Weiss nodded. “Thanks. Thank you, both of you. For everything. I’ll message you later, when I’ve… settled in.”

“Sure thing,” Blake accepted. “See you around. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, same here,” Yang chipped in.

Without further ado the pair left Weiss to her own devices. When the door clicked shut the singer quickly locked it and turned to take in the sight of her room once again.

From the entrance there was a door immediately to her right which led to the bathroom. Along the right wall, past the door, was a refrigerator, the faulty cooker, and a long counter that stretched to the far wall, with a sink at the far end, in that order. In the centre was a small square dining table with the three rickety chairs. On the left was the double bed, the sheets freshly changed, with a small chest of drawers to the side. A small mirror was mounted above the drawers, but other than that, the walls were devoid of ornamentation.

It was a very small slice of a Kingdom Weiss hadn’t even been born into.

And it was her home.

The home she had secured thanks to the efforts of her co-workers, at the job Yang had helped her get.

The home she moved to from Blake’s couch.

It was all far too much to think about.

Slowly, she lowered herself onto the bed. Every event of the past month blared through her consciousness in a psychedelic blur, tearing through her mind like shards of glass. The last argument with Father, running away in a foreign Kingdom, spending her nights on the couch of a member of a species she had been raised to despise, recklessly flinging herself at someone and nearly driving her away in the process, finding a job, trying to emotionally support two people she had known for a month, doing all that while staving off a class ten freak-out had left Weiss utterly drained.

It also finally wore down her self-control to the point where she couldn’t hold back the oncoming storm anymore.

Tears burned tracks like acid down her cheeks as they spilled out, darkening the plain white blanket coverings. Her whole world shrunk down and so did she, curling up and wrapping her arms around her legs, holding on for dear life.

She had no idea how long she sat there, crying and shaking and drifting in and out of consciousness until reality became a nebulous haze in her mind as memories sweet and bitter lashed out at her again and again and again with no mercy or compassion whatsoever.

She sobbed, she tensed and relaxed her muscles in uncontrollable spasms, she clawed at the scars on her ribs and stomach like she was frantically trying to force them to re-open and bleed anew, though since she scratched them through the fabric of her t-shirt she was thankfully unsuccessful in this regard.

Her breath came in short, ragged bursts and no matter what she tried she couldn’t escape the imminent terror, the feeling that something was about to strike her, couldn’t slow her breathing, couldn’t slow her heart’s furious pace. Nothing worked – not counting her breaths, not music, not her mantras of calm and relaxation, _nOTHING WORKS_.

_It’s been a month! Why can’t I escape him? Why won’t he just get out of my head? GET. OUT. OF. MY. MIND!_

She yelled in her own mind, demanding that it cease her torment.

Obviously, this didn’t do all that much.

In fact, her frustration at being unable to calm down only made the whole thing that much worse.

Toppling onto her side, still shaking and sobbing messily, she resigned herself to playing the waiting game with her own fevered brain.

=x=

A rumbling in her stomach awoke her from the slumber she had eventually drifted into. Time, it seemed, had resolved that which Weiss herself could not. The attack was over.

Strangely, the former heiress felt a lot lighter. It hadn’t occurred to her just how much she had been holding in, so when it all came crashing out, naturally the results weren’t pretty. But though she still felt more than a bit shaken, there was definitely some cathartic relief in there, too.

She didn’t even need to check the fridge to remember she had no food in. _I knew there was something._ Opening her Scroll, she checked out a map of her immediate area and found a local grocery store. Slinging her backpack on, she headed out and bought a few basic essentials – milk, cereal, bread, cheese.

Despite living with a relatively decent cook for a month, she still knew little to nothing about the process, so she stuck to things that required no actual preparation beyond placing them on some form of pottery. As she did so she cursed, realising she had no plates, bowls or cutlery, and almost burst into tears again right there in the shop.

_Not now. Focus._

Thankfully the store had a few sets of cheap plastic crockery and cutlery, so she added those to her basket as she shopped.

The initial cost of her trip dismayed her as she handed over her bank card. _Budgeting. Another thing I need to learn. Fantastic._

Bag considerably heavier, she returned home, still finding the feel of the word rather strange as it resonated through her consciousness.

_I have a home._

After storing her purchases, she checked the time, realising only then that she still had work that night.

_At this point, I’m rather glad that all that breakdown business seems to be over._

Since she was still emotionally weary from earlier, she decided simply to reach out to a friend for help getting to and from work. Briefly she considered Blake or Yang but then remembered the former was likely still patching up the latter. _She definitely needs medical care. Given the cause of her injuries she can hardly visit a hospital since they would just ask questions. Therefore, unofficial help is all she can accept._

Still, it rankled her that someone she cared about couldn’t be treated professionally. The worst part was that if she still had her old influence as the heiress of the SDC she could’ve used her influence to ensure any doctors involved kept quiet and asked no questions. Better yet, she could’ve simply utilized the services of one of the family’s own physicians, who in any case were better trained than the standard hospital worker.

Shaking herself, she jolted out of her reverie and instead called Scarlet, explaining the situation. They were more than happy to offer a lift and indeed were overjoyed to hear the news about Weiss’ move. “I lived there myself at one point, before I got my apartment,” they explained when they arrived without requiring directions. “Port is a decent enough fellow, even if he is rather fond of the sound of his own voice.”

=x=

Work proved to be the usual hectic experience – the bouncers were still herding the inebriate citizenry out of the darkened venue when the sun rose. After collecting her pay for the night, one of her co-workers asked if she wanted to grab a drink behind the bar. “Junior knows we all do it now and then. As long as you don’t do it too often he doesn’t seem to mind,” Jaune explained. “But if you don’t wanna risk your job then I can totally understand,” he hastily added.

After a moment of consideration she went along with it. “I think after that shift I could use a drink,” she confessed. The Saturday shift paid better than most but it took more out of her than weeknights.

They headed back out to the bar, which was now fairly quiet, aside from some mild easy-listening tunes playing on low volume in the background. After checking what she wanted he mixed a pair of rum and cokes, handing one to the former heiress when it was done.

They knocked the disposable plastic cups together and both drank deeply. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then: “Alright, so I’m just gonna come out and say it. I think you’re really sweet, and if you want, I’d like to take you out on a date some time.”

Weiss raised her eyebrows. “You like to get right to the point, don’t you?”

Jaune smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I figure honesty’s the best policy with these kinds of things.”

“You’re not wrong. I suppose it’s my turn to be honest now.” _Do at least try to let him down gently._ “I think you’re… nice enough, too. I have certainly appreciated your support in my time working here. However, I’m afraid I simply don’t see you in a romantic light.” _I said gently, damnit._

The blond haired man didn’t seem fazed. “Fair enough. Thought you might say that, to be honest.”

“Then why ask?” Weiss inquired, confused.

“Well I’d never have known for sure if I didn’t, would I? This way I know, and I can start to get over it, y’know?”

“That makes… a surprising amount of sense, actually.” _Damnit, why does he have to have puppy dog eyes?_ After a moment she added, “I do still think of you as a friend, you know. If you wanted to hang out in that sense, I would be happy to.”

Jaune’s mildly dejected expression picked up at that. “Works for me! Glad I didn’t completely screw things up.”

Weiss grinned a little. “You made an offer and didn’t protest when it wasn’t accepted. If you had persisted then there would’ve been an issue, but you didn’t.”

“Fair enough. Thanks, Weiss.”

“Anytime. Goodnight, Jaune.” She knocked back the rest of her rum and coke, then made to leave. “And thanks for the drink!”

=x=

Settling into bed that night was such a surreal experience for Weiss. For the past month she had gotten used to sleeping in her day clothes, as a result of her lack of forward planning in forgetting to bring a set of pyjamas. Blake had offered a set of their own, but the singer had declined, somewhat uncomfortable with the notion of sharing clothes so soon in their whatever-they-were. Since she was on the couch and had little enough security of privacy, she had decided to remain in whichever outfit she had worn on any given day, which made for a lot of laundry.

_Yet another thing I need – more clothing._

The Faunus had also offered to buy her some, but her pride rankled at the thought. She couldn’t in good conscience accept more charity when she was already a guest who was accepting food and board without payment.

So tonight the ability to sleep just in her underwear was somewhat of a luxury for her. The feel of the slightly coarse fabric of the bedsheets was a pleasant contrast to the muted physical sensations she was used to at that point.

Just before she dozed off, she remembered to text both Yang and Blake.

To Blake, she sent the following.

_Hello, it’s Weiss. I just wanted to let you know that I’m alright now, and that I made it to work with no problems. I feel like I could still use a little space, though, so I’d probably like to wait a few days before we next see each other. That being said, thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Words are insufficient to the task of conveying my gratitude, but they will have to suffice. Thank you. You gave me a place to find my feet when I fell into the real world. Don’t underestimate how much you mean to me. I look forward to seeing you again._

Afterwards she wrote a separate message to the blonde brawler.

_Hey, Yang. I’m texting to let you know that I’m alright now, and that I got to work without issue. I’m still a little bit overwhelmed with everything, so I think I could use a few days to myself. Nevertheless, I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for me. Thanks to you, I have found real independence. Through you I met Junior, and now I am able to support myself without relying on others. That is something I treasure more than anything. Thank you, so, so much. I look forward to seeing you again._

Satisfied, she settled in to her bed, relishing the sheer amount of space she had to sprawl over.

As her consciousness faded away, the last images that came to mind were the face of the two people she had just messaged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know this one is shorter than most, but other than the move, there wasn’t much planned for this one. This marks an important turning point in the story – Weiss achieving her independence. It’s still going to burn fairly slowly – like the characters themselves, I have no desire to rush into anything too quickly. But now things are going to get interesting.
> 
> I won’t lie – I toyed with the idea of ending the fic here and chronicling subsequent events in a new fic. But then I always planned something like this would happen and that it would not be the end of the fic, just the end of an act within the story. So consider this the end of Act 1.
> 
> Now let the beauty of Act 2 commence. There will be fluff. There will be angst. There will be painful plotlines and blossoming love.
> 
> As always, comments are much appreciated.
> 
> See you next time, readers <3


	11. You Deliver Me From The Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to Act 2! Not that I have a specific plan for the Acts or anything but yeah. Here it is! As I said before, this marks a bit of a turning point for this story, as will be evident as you read on. New POVs! New plot arcs! Uhh… Jaune!
> 
> Anyway, I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to my sleep-deprived, caffeine-induced ramblings. Go forth and enjoy the gay!

As they exited the youth hostel, Yang immediately tried to backtrack on her earlier acceptance of Blake’s offer.

“So, all that stuff about checking my injuries,” she began in a faux-casual manner. “That was just so we could get out of there and give Weiss some space, right?”

_I knew she’d do this._

So they kept it simple.

“Nope.”

Yang looked puzzled, and more than a touch uneasy as the two of them started walking back towards their respective parts of town. “Uhh, what?”

“You heard me.”

Now the brawler was frowning. “I told you, I’m fine. What’s the big deal?”

_Why is she so stubborn? Can’t look past her stupid pride._

“I’m sure you’ve been patched up already,” the Faunus started patiently. “But if you have any cuts, even little ones, it’s probably worth checking them for signs of infection. I have antiseptic, and ice for those bruises.”

The artist could see Yang arguing with herself internally. “I can handle it myself.”

“But you don’t have to! That’s the point of having friends, Yang!” Blake exclaimed, frustration finally slipping out.

“Right, like you’re so open about what you go through,” the brawler retorted sharply.

“Stop changing the subject. Are you going to let me check your injuries or not?!”

“Fine! See if I care!”

Stunned, they were both reduced to silence. “Did you just… angrily accept my help?”

“Looks that way to me.” Yang seemed equally surprised by this turn of events. “Damnit. Can’t get out of it now, huh.”

Blake smirked. “You’re getting taken care of whether you like it or not.”

The brawler stuck out her tongue. “You just wanted an excuse to take off my clothes.”

_She’s got you there._

=x=

Despite their best efforts, Blake still ended up sharing some knowledge about their past. Nothing too dark for pleasant conversation, but a few details they didn’t normally make commonly known, nonetheless.

The pair had been discussing their experiences of family, biological and otherwise, when the Faunus had started talking about Tukson.

“Since Menagerie often got targeted by bigots, communes like the one I grew up in were pretty common,” they explained tonelessly. “People just looked out for each other. Kids who needed food got fed, people who wanted support found it. It was… nice, considering the circumstances.” As they continued talking about their found family their voice became more animated, though they tried to keep their enthusiasm under wraps, in case it annoyed the brawler. “One of the adults who looked after me was a man called Tukson. A few years after I left to come live in Vale, he came here, too. When I found out, things got better. Having him there to fall back on if I needed…”

Yang nodded understandingly. “That’s what family’s for, right?”

“I guess so. At this point, he’s my only link to my home. He owns a little bookshop downtown, and sometimes I just go there to relax and get away from the world. There’s one room there that’s just filled with cushions. You can literally walk in, fall over and if there isn’t a person in the way you’ll land in something soft and probably fluffy. And he keeps lots of really interesting books, not the kind you find in most places…”

_Okay, am I even trying not to ramble at this point?_

The brawler didn’t seem to mind, though. Indeed, while Blake waxed eloquent about some quirk of their friend’s store, or a fond memory, or some humorous anecdote from their childhood, Yang seemed to drink it all in like she couldn’t get enough.

Worriedly, after telling the story of how they and Ren had agreed to become business partners after sharing most of a bottle of tequila, they seemed to notice their somewhat uncharacteristic level of verbosity and apologised profusely.

“No, don’t apologise!” Yang exclaimed. “I love hearing all your stories! You’ve done so much cool stuff, and I feel like I’m actually getting to know you a little.”

Blake flushed. _This has to be too good to be true. Two cute girls who aren’t just trying to get into my pants?_

“Well I can’t tell you _everything_ about myself so soon. In case you hadn’t noticed, I have an aura of mystery to maintain.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a massive dork?”

“It seems to have become the princess’ nickname for me, so yes.”

“You don’t sound too upset by that.”

“I’ve resigned myself to my fate. That doesn’t mean I like it,” Blake deadpanned.

Yang snorted disbelievingly. “Please. I bet you not-so-secretly love it.”

“Ugh, shut up,” the Faunus whined.

“Then there’s that ‘squire’ thing you two have goin’ on…”

“I hate you.”

“Just because you can’t deny you’re a dorky squire and you love it~”

“A dorky squire who could kick your ass,” Blake reminded the brawler.

“Only ‘cause I got busted up yesterday,” Yang retorted lightly. “We still need to spar sometime when I’m not black ‘n’ blue.”

_Why do I get the feeling that could end with us doing something very different?_

Externally, the Faunus responded, “Alright, but don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re cute.”

“Wouldn’t want you to. Nothing wrong with getting a little rough now and then~”

_Fuck._

Forcing down some _incredibly_ inappropriate thoughts, Blake floundered a reply. “Behave.”

“Hey, all’s fair in love and war, and this is lookin’ like a bit of both,” Yang bantered back.

_Weiss, how did you deal with this?_

_Oh, yeah, she didn’t. She just pounced._

Despite, or perhaps because of their confident exterior, it was normally Blake that initiated flirting, hence why normally they could be so smooth.

This also explained why they were so far out of their depth now that they _weren’t_ initiating it.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Funny, Weiss said something like that, too.”

=x=

After what felt like an eternity of frustration, the duo finally arrived back at _Belladonna Delights_. When they entered Yang greeted Sun briefly before being all but dragged upstairs. The Faunus didn’t let up until the pair of them were in the bathroom and the brawler was seated on the toilet’s lowered lid.

_Wait. Crap. What am I doing? She’d need to take off her shirt to let me look at her injuries, but what if she’s not comfortable with that? The last thing I want to do is push her too far._

Adopting a gentler tone, they spoke. “Are you sure you’re okay with me doing this for you?”

Yang grimaced. “First you get mad at me when I don’t want your help, then when I say yes you hesitate?”

_Shit, she’s mad._

_Well, wouldn’t I be?_

“I shouldn’t have pushed you into it in the first place.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Yang agreed. “But… I’m not gonna lie, this,” she waved a hand over her stomach, “hurts like hell. You two weren’t wrong about me being bad at accepting help… I actually wouldn’t mind it if you gave it another look over.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Hey, this isn’t something I’m used to, okay? Just… get your antiseptics, or whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“If you’re sure,” Blake let out, before turning and opening the cabinet above the sink and retrieving a tube of antiseptic cream, a roll of bandage and some gauze pads, a bottle of distilled water and some cleaning wipes.

In their line of work, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for them to see… more of a person. In order to work properly they had developed a focused mind-set they could activate at will, allowing them to concentrate on the job at hand without being distracted. It would hardly end well for them if they were too busy admiring a client’s figure to fulfil their requests, after all.

So even though a part of the Faunus’ mind, supressed somewhere near the back, was a little flustered at the sight of Yang clad only in a bra from the waist up, they retained a methodical mentality as their gaze swept around the brawler’s body, taking in the mottled skin over her toned abdomen, the grazes on her side and arms, abrasions on her wrists, and, when Yang turned away at their instruction, the smattering of scratches on her back.

In any case, even if Blake wasn’t intent on treating their friend, the sight before them would still have inspired them less towards lust and more towards worry.

They began with the cuts on Yang’s back. Though most of them were fairly short, they were quite wide and in some cases deeper than they looked. First, they rinsed off the brawler’s back with the purified water, then gently patted the scratches down with the wipes. When they were mostly dry, Blake rubbed in a dab of antiseptic along the length of each of them, gently massaging the cool solution into the broken skin.

As they worked, they inquired what exactly had caused such an impressive array of wounds. In between slight winces, Yang narrated. “In the fourth, she started getting desperate. She’d floored me a few times but I kept getting back up, and I think that made her nervous. So when- aah, that’s cold!- when the round started, she just charged at me like a bull, or something. I was already pretty wiped at that point, and I couldn’t keep dodging forever. So I let her get me.”

“So these…” Blake trailed off while attending to a particularly nasty gash that almost resembled a cross.

“Cage wall. That thing’s pretty solid.”

“Ouch,” the artist winced in sympathy. “How did you get out of _that_?”

“While she was busy giving me these,” she pointed at the impressive array of bruises on her lower torso, “I just whacked her in the neck with both hands. Boxed her ears, too, just to be safe. She backed off pretty quick after that.”

“Impressive,” Blake complemented. “If I were in a position like that, I don’t think I could concentrate enough to think about counterattacking.”

“Well that’s one of the principles in Valean boxing,” Yang explained, eyes lighting up a little.

Finished with the brawler’s back, Blake had Yang turn so her left side faced the artist. They began cleaning off the grazes on her arm and side as she launched into an explanation of the resilience principle associated with her particular way of fighting.

Blake then returned with their own knowledge. “I was always taught to avoid getting hit in the first place. Little ways to move just off-centre enough that the hit doesn’t land.”

“If you’re quick enough to pull that off every time, then that’s great. But I know I can’t guarantee that every fight I get into, I’ll be able to block or dodge every single punch. That’s why I like what I do. Plus, it lets me pull off bullshit like what I did to Arslan. I gave her what she wanted then hit her when she least expected.”

“That’s fair. But you have a lot of strength on your side. I’m tough, but I’ve always been more fast than strong. That, and having a smaller frame means I can reliably evade. Instead of blocking hits, I redirect them. It takes a lot less energy to move an incoming strike a little to the side than to stop it completely,” Blake responded while smearing antiseptic over the brawler’s bicep.

With that, the grazes were treated. Blake stood and made for the exit. “Be right back, I need an ice pack for those bruises.”

Yang grimaced and nodded.

The Faunus always kept a bag of ice in their freezer for occasions such as this. Once they retrieved it, they returned and knelt by the brawler’s side and began gently pressing the frigid surface against the wide range of battered flesh.

Methodically, they worked their way across Yang’s side, down to her abdomen, gradually moving across the entirety of that muscled expanse, leaving the pack on each spot for a few seconds before shifting it again.

The brawler hissed and gasped every time to pack moved but otherwise kept silent.

Finally, the artist reached up to Yang’s face. Cupping her uninjured cheek with one hand, they patted down the other side with the pack. As they did so, the hand resting on the unharmed side began stroking slightly, moving up and down soothingly to distract from the freezing sensation.

When every bruised part of the brawler’s face, from cheekbone to jawline, had received attention from the ice, Blake placed it on the floor. Their other hand remained on Yang’s face, however, still making those gentle motions. Yang’s eyes were shut, and ever-so-slightly, she seemed to be leaning into the touch.

The Faunus was still on their knees next to the brawler, but they then slowly rose, still not taking away their hand. Their other arm reached around, about to rest on the brawler’s broad shoulders and pull her into an embrace. At the last second, they hesitated. “Yang?” They asked quietly.

The blonde slowly opened her eyes and saw the offered gesture. After a moment, she nodded once.

Without further hesitation, Blake wrapped their arm around Yang. Their left hand, previously on the brawler’s cheek, slid back into her luxuriantly soft hair and gently scratched the back of her head and held her close against their currently flat chest. After a few moments, Yang sighed contentedly and brought up her arms around Blake’s back, returning the hold.

The artist pressed their lips to the crown of Yang’s head. “You don’t always have to be the strong one,” they whispered.

“I’m trying to believe you. Really, I am,” the brawler murmured back.

“I know. I’ve been where you are now,” they revealed. “Heck, when I’m actually down, I usually start falling back into that kind of self-imposed isolation. But, listen,” they pulled away a little and tilted Yang’s face upwards so their eyes met. Eyes that usually shone violet with passion or joy now glistened slightly with something decidedly less pleasant.

“You aren’t alone. Just get that through your head.”

With that, they let Yang bury her head against their chest again.

_Practise what you preach._

=x=

Blake had been standing with their knees bent slightly, to best accommodate the brawler in the hug.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position to remain stationary in, as their aching legs attested.

When Yang pulled away they straightened up, sighing gratefully at their regained mobility.

After an awkward moment, Blake asked if they should relocate to the living room.

The brawler agreed, and they exited the bathroom wordlessly, settling into the couch with very little distance between them. They chattered briefly but it was apparent that both of them needed some down time – Yang being exhausted physically and Blake emotionally. It wasn’t long, therefore, before the former offered to get out of the latter’s hair.

“Thanks,” Blake accepted gratefully. “Don’t think this means what I said earlier doesn’t still apply, though.”

“I know,” Yang answered quietly. “I won’t forget.”

They walked her downstairs, offering another hug before she left. They held her gently for a few more seconds, striving to avoid agitating the brawler’s injuries, before they separated, and Yang left, a faint smile on her face.

Later that evening, when the parlour closed, the feline Faunus was ambushed by their employees.

And Nora.

The four of them were congregated in the main room of the parlour, nattering away about inconsequential happenings, when the redhead suddenly changed the subject.

“You’ve been quieter and more brooding than normal. I get you have this ‘emo punk edgelord’ thing goin’ on here, but seriously, something’s up. You _promised_ you’d try harder to actually, y’know, _talk_ about stuff when you’re upset. Soooo…”

_Here it comes._

“…TALK!” The redhead commanded, pointing dramatically at the feline Faunus for effect.

Blake brushed their hair back into a centralised setting between their midnight cat ears before responding. “It’s nothing, really…”

“Yeah. Like we haven’t heard that one before,” Sun snorted.

_Ugh!_

Their feline appendages flattened as they assumed a more defensive posture. Blake was just about to utter a biting retort when Ren made his thoughts known.

“What Sun is attempting, with questionable phrasing, to say, is that it isn’t uncommon for you to shut us out when something is bothering you,” he explained, his low, quiet voice adding a soothing note to the conversation. “We understand that it’s an automatic reaction. However, we do know you well enough to know that something is wrong. We simply wish to help.”

Blake chewed their lip. “Yeah, I know. But it’s nothing you guys can help with, really. I just need a little space.”

Sun and Nora made exaggerated ‘ohhh’ noises simultaneously while the piercing expert merely nodded understandingly.

The monkey Faunus scratched the back of his head, looking distinctly abashed. “Right. Having Weiss around all the time means no ‘you’ time. No ‘you’ time, bad mood. Gotcha.”

“That about covers it,” Blake agreed. _He’s getting better at this. It’s nice that he actually understands me now._

“In that case, we shall leave you in peace for the night,” Ren acquiesced to the unspoken request. “However,” he quickly added, “Do remember to take care of yourself. As always, we are here should you need anything.”

_What did I do to deserve these guys?_

“Alright, dorks, things are gettin’ a little sappy in here. Know what that means?” Inquired Nora with a slightly maniacal gleam to her eyes.

“Aw, yeah. Group hug time!” Declared Sun.

Without further prompting, the four of them clustered tightly together in a mess of arms around various people, with Blake at the centre. The feline Faunus absorbed the delightful mix of affection, from Sun’s firm but relaxed hold, to Nora’s vicelike grip, ending at the stable, warm, reassuring presence of Ren.

Having known each other for as long as they had, Blake’s friends knew fairly well when the feline Faunus would reach their tolerance point for physical affection, and so dispersed the hug well before it came to that. Each wished them a good evening, then departed, leaving Blake alone.

_At last._

=x=

After locking up, Blake headed back up to their apartment. Residual tension they had been carrying for the better part of a month finally began to bleed out of them as they embraced the moment of being blissfully alone.

Weiss’ company had been far from unpleasant, but there was always a limit to how much interaction the feline Faunus could handle before overload. They were a little past that point now, but even as panic threatened to overtake them they slowed their breathing using techniques learned from their old martial arts tutor.

They proceeded calmly to their room and shut the door behind them. _Create a safe space, free from external influence._

Pressing their back to the wall, they gently lowered themselves to the ground, keeping contact with the unyielding surface throughout the descent, until they settled into a cross-legged seating position with their back straight. _Emotion is a reality of life. Do not supress it. Rather, seek to retain control of your will in spite of the impulses emotion sends to your mind._

They counted the seconds that passed as they regulated their breathing. Seven seconds in, nine seconds out. Seven seconds in, nine seconds out. Seven seconds in, nine seconds out. _Control of the body’s natural rhythms inspires control of the mind._

As their breathing settled, they visualised their fear, which took the form of dark, stormy clouds in their body. Clouds that swirled and raged violently, static building up. They synchronised their visualisation with their breathing, projecting the storm clouds out of their lungs with each exhale. _To know something is to gain power over it. See your fear, and you have the means to purge it._

Over the course of a few minutes, they gradually siphoned the imagined thunderclouds out of their body and into the outside world, where they dissipated harmlessly. As they did so, they began to notice a sense of calm slowly easing into their mind. By the time they had completed the mental exercise, the attack had been averted.

Slowly, they stood, and returned to the other room and hit the kitchen. They opened up the freezer and pulled out a frozen pizza, which they flung into the oven on high heat. As the food slowly cooked, they opened up a playlist on their Scroll, and the gentle notes of a symphony orchestra radiated from the small device. Blake closed their eyes and allowed the music to wash over them, savouring every smooth, flowing sound that wound its way through their mind.

Once their meal was cooked to an acceptable level (borderline burnt – they preferred their pizza crispy) they settled onto the couch with their food and the book they had been attempting to read before Weiss had moved in. The story of a man with two souls, vying for control of his body.

After a few hours of relaxation the Faunus knew it was late. They had just reached a particularly compelling section of the novel, but upon realising the time reluctantly set it down. _Tonight is about looking after myself. Skipping sleep to finish a book is not good for me._

_I’ve done well today. I helped my friends. I didn’t bottle my emotions when asked about them._

_Today was a good day._

As they settled into bed, they repeated the mantra in their mind over and over.

Tonight, they almost believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well! First Blake chapter! It won’t be the last, either. Bit of a filler chapter between story arcs. But interesting stuff will be happening next time around.
> 
> Once again, sorry about slow updates. And unfortunately, this is the last chapter in my backlog. At this point, updates are down to whenever I get a chapter done. I’m bad at writing on a schedule, since this is primarily something I do for fun more than anything else. So, apologies about that.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> See you all next time!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Any constructive criticism is welcome. Comments are awesome :D  
> I really shouldn't be starting another multi-chapter fic. Oh well.  
> Love you folks, and see you all next time <3


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